The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo
by Haihai-BAKAdesu
Summary: France is stricken over the disappearance of their beloved Prince, Ichigo. So when two English outlaws, Zangetsu and Shirosaki accidentally get caught up in the mix, Ichigo gives them a taste of France that they'll never forget. Hichi x Ichi -YAOI-
1. It's A living

**The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo [Chapter 1: It's a Living]**

**Pairing: Hichigo x Ichigo **

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the wonderful world of BLEACH because life is evil like that.**

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**In the marketplace, the women gossiped with worried faces. Every now and they, they'd reply in hurried English, "I wonder how the king is feeling right now..."

The others shook their heads sadly and replied, "_Ne t'en fais pas! (Don't worry!)_ He's a strong man, but just imagine having your own son go missing like that."

Another woman spoke up in English once again, "Oh no dear, he isn't just missing; he was kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped! Goodness gracious me!" A few of the younger women gasped in horror.

From the side of the marketplace sat a young man of no more than 18 years of age with his hat pulled down over his face and his feet up on the table before him. He sighed exasperatedly and pulled the hat off his head to reveal a head of bristly white hair. When he'd sat himself down at a coffee shop in the middle of the market strip, he'd hoped to pick up some interesting local gossip to tell his uncle, but the people were talking of only one topic in particular.

A couple brushed past him, talking feverishly, their English was very bad, "Did you hear? About the Prince?"

"Of course, of course! What do you suppose will happen to him? Oh, I hope he's still alive."

The white-haired boy pulled a foul expression. If he heard _one more_ person chatter about the missing prince, he swore he'd kick them to death. Prince _this_, prince _that_, prince, prince, prince, blah, blah, _blah_. But what really annoyed him to no end was the fact that no one could get their story straight. He'd heard a vast spectrum of different theories, all ranging from the stupid to outright insane.

A pair of young teenage girls scuttled past and joined another large forming group. Their faces were wide with shock when a friend whispered to them. One of the girls let out a shrill squeal and spoke hurriedly, "_Mon Dieu!_ _(My God!) _I thought it was just a rumour. So it's true then, the prince has disappeared?"

Something snapped in him and the white-haired boy's hand twitched towards the salt shaker on the table, raised it above his head, and aimed for the group of girls. He gritted his teeth. He honestly didn't care if he hurt them. But before he could release the shaker, a hand firmly gripped his wrist.

The boy flinched, turned quickly to meet the face of his uncle. The thickets of brown hair that fell down past the man's shoulders, his long tattered coat and dark glasses gave an overall menacing appearance, but the boy wasn't perturbed. "You weren't planning on throwing this at those girls now were you, Shirosaki?"

"Oh, Zangetsu, It's just you," Shirosaki chuckled, a strange echoing sound, and a sly grin spread across his features, "Would I ever do such a thing?"

The older man gave his nephew an all-knowing stare. If there was one thing he hated about his young nephew, it was his talent for finding trouble, not matter where they were. "I should've sent you back to England when I had the chance."

Shirosaki's smile quickly turned into a glare, "No, not happening. You said we were in this together, Naples or nowhere."

"I know, I know; Naples or nowhere." Zangetsu repeated. He walked around and after pushing Shirosaki's feet off the table, leaned against it. He let his gaze wander around the marketplace. Because of their generally strange appearance, people would occasionally glance their way, but wouldn't give them a second glance as they walked past. This peacefulness was something that neither of them had gotten much of lately. It was nice to be able to be in public without the fear of getting arrested.

"Sometimes I forget," Shirosaki muttered softly.

Zangetsu turned to the white-haired boy, "Pardon?"

Shirosaki was looking off into the crowd. "Sometimes, I forget we're in France. It's so much like England it's scary." He scowled, "And it certainly doesn't help when they're all talking in English. I can't relax properly if I think I'm going to get jumped at any second."

Zangetsu couldn't help but tousle the boy's hair, making him yelp. "It's because it's fashionable, that's why. Once the Parisians and the royals started speaking English, so did everyone else." Of course, the French were still their own people, but they took a strange pride in mastering a language not their own. Zangetsu found it charming, but all Shirosaki could do was complain about it.

The pair fell into silence and the endless sounds of the marketplace surrounded them; the carts, the livestock, the people. It would've been like a holiday, if they hadn't been there for business. "So," Shirosaki finally broke the silence, "Did they supply the goods?"

The uncle gave his nephew a quick once-over, "Just exactly how strong are you?"

The comment caused a racket of protest from the younger one. "I'm _very_ strong! Strong enough to take _you_ on right here, right now in fact!" His complaint died down when he noticed the small grin spread lazily across the older man's face. "No way. No, no _way_!" His face broke into a big grin, "How much are we talking abut here?"

"140 pounds of pure opium are packed, sealed and ready to be shipped to England tomorrow morning, not far from here at Le Havre." Zangetsu commented smugly.

Shirosaki laughed victoriously and shook the man's shoulder, "I just knew coming to France was a good idea! Hahaha!"

He chuckled softly, "Funny you say that, coming from the same boy who whined non-stop on the sail over."

Even the brash insult couldn't dull the white-haired boy's spirits, because come tomorrow; their problems were all but solved.

~xxxxx~

In the cover of night, two burly English men carried a long bag into the old stone cathedral. Nothing stirred as they fumbled their way around in the dark with only the moonlight to guide them. They slowly moved into the side hall where, lying flat on the floor was an array of open coffins. The men ignored the shivers that ran up their spines at the sight of the wooden caskets and tossed the long bag down onto the floor.

The bag writhed slightly and groaned. As the men untied the rope, a head of bright orange hair stood out from the murky grey inner lining of the bag.

"Can't we just kill him and be done with it?" One of the men spoke up. His voice echoed faintly around the room.

"No," The other replied, "our orders were to bury him _alive_, poor bastard. If we don't follow what the boss said to the letter, I fear we would join that lad in coffins of our own."

Neither of them enjoyed the thought of casket lids closing down on them and slowly getting lowered into the ground as they yelled and hollered. With a light shudder, one of the men pushed the thoughts away and reached into the bag. He pulled the boy out with a tug and laid him onto the ground.

It was the missing prince, Ichigo Kurosaki. He was ambushed on the outskirts of Paris and the trails of dried blood down from his temple indicated that he was hit sharply over the head and knocked unconscious. The only indication that he was still alive was the steady rising and falling of his chest. His jewels were missing as well as the small crown that usually sat atop his head. A thick strip of material was tied over his mouth in the unfortunate event that he should wake up early.

"Put him in the coffin beside that other one," One of the men pointed over to the closed coffin in the corner. It seemed that the coffin was already preoccupied with a poor dead body, no doubt. There was always a fresh body in the cathedral, waiting to be buried, waiting to finally get put to rest. The pair grabbed him by his arms and feet and carried him over to the casket, lowering the unconscious boy into it.

When the pair stood up straight, an unwanted sound of horses-hooves clattered in the distance. To heighten their worries, there were the loud sounds of gunfire. "Shit! It's the Gendarmes! They've found us!" One of the men panicked. "What do we do?"

"Hush!" The other hissed, "Just close the coffin and bolt it shut. They're looking for the living, not the dead; they won't check in there."

No longer caring about discreetness, they fumbled with the lid and the sounds of the bolts being fastened echoed through the cathedral. "Let's get out of here!" The men tossed their tools into the now body-less bag, slung it over their shoulder and escaped out a side door and back into the darkness.

The cathedral was once again silent. The main hallway appeared untouched, aside from the newly occupied casket. The plan to put the unconscious prince into a coffin was a devious one indeed. Not a single soul would've guessed to look for the prince in such a location, especially if they pinned their hopes on him still being alive.

Only a few minutes away from the cathedral were the cause of the earlier gunfire. A simple horse-drawn carriage thundered across the dirt road, it's covering tarp flapping violently in the wind. Much to the passengers' annoyance, the Gendarmes weren't far behind.

Two cloaked and hooded figures sat at the reigns while the taller of the two controlled the swift movements of their horses. The other carried a revolver and was slowly filling its chambers with bullets.

"No, Shiro," A deep voice came from the taller man. "Don't you dare return fire."

Ignoring Zangetsu's comments, Shirosaki pulled down the hood of his cloak and turned to point the firearm at the horses in the distance. He squinted and pulled the pin back, ready to fire.

"Shiro! Cover your hair!" Zangetsu tugged the hood back over his nephew's pale hair and face. With a loud bang, the bullet fell wide of its target and shot through the branch of a nearby tree.

The carriage passed over a bump in the ground and Shiro was jolted forwards, nearly thrown onto the back. He threw his uncle a foul look and turned back around in his seat. "You made me miss."

Zangetsu kept his eyes focused on the dark path ahead of him, "Very few people have white hair like you do, Shiro. If we're going to pull this operation off successfully, it would be better if we don't get caught, don't you think?"

"Fuck that," Shiro objected, but still holstered his gun. "We've never been caught yet. These Gendarmes can't be any worse than Scotland Yard. " He looked again at the police horses. They were much further behind now. Shiro could only make out the flickering light of their lanterns and hear their shouts and stray bullets hitting their surroundings.

Zangetsu took a longer route than need be to loose the Gendarmes. He rode the horses quite some distance from their destination, then doubled back around the other side. And with the thickets of trees and darkness on their side, they made a quick escape.

Suddenly, they emerged from the woodlands out into the small clearing of at start of a village. An impressive stone cathedral stood out at the edge. The metal cross at the top of the steeple shone in the moonlight. Zangetsu pulled firmly at the reins and the horses thundered to a stop. As the adrenaline pumped through their veins, the pair leapt down from the carriage and hurried up to the large wooden front doors.

Shiro got there first and gave the hanging padlock a quick shake, "Shit, it's locked."

"Of course it is." Zangetsu sighed. They didn't have enough time to search for another entry so he pulled out his own revolver out of the inside of his coat and shot the lock. Luckily it was rusting and was easily blown apart. He kicked the doors open and they both rushed in.

With Zangetsu in the lead, they noiselessly scuttled pasts the rows of seats, past the pulpit and through a door on the left that lead into the side hall. Through the darkness, they saw rows upon rows of wooden coffins lay open on the floor.

"Ah-hah!" Shiro noticed the two closed coffins in the top corner. "Y'know, I thought you were crazy, telling the suppliers to hide the opium bags in a coffin, but it's actually quite smart."

Zangetsu chuckled, "I'm much smarter than you give me credit for," When they hurried over to the closed ones, he picked up the top end of the bolted coffin.

Shiro paused, "Wait, aren't you going to check?"

Zangetsu raised an eyebrow, "Do you really think they'd bolt shut the coffin of a dead man? It's not like he's going to want to get out or anything."

Shiro burst out laughing, the metallic sound reverberating off the walls and echoing twice over. There was a somewhat insane edge to his laugh that sent tiny prickling chills up the backs of the less courageous folk. He was still laughing as he picked up the base end of the coffin.

"You have a twisted sense of humour, don't you?"

The laughter finally ceased so that Shiro could respond, "It just comes with being raised by vagabond like you."

"Vagabond? Why you little..." Zangetsu muttered as they lifted the coffin up to their chests. They had to hurry quickly. Zangetsu had bought them a little bit of time, but it wouldn't last long. With Shiro walking backwards, they quickly shuffled out of the room and back into the main hall.

"Jesus Christ, it's heavy!" Shirosaki panted and narrowly missed slamming the side of his hip into a table of unlit candles, "Almost feels like there's actually a body in there."

"Well, 140 pounds of opium is about the weight of, I dunno, an average young male? So at least it means we haven't been gypped." Zangetsu readjusted his hold on the coffin, "Plus, It'll be easier to ship back to Portsmouth if it feels authentic. It was the easiest way I could think of to get it out of the country unchecked. Simple, but effective."

Shiro threw him an '_I-honestly-couldn't-give-a-fuck'_ look. Once they exited the cathedral with little-to-none ease and stumbling, they could once again hear the sounds of shouting Gendarmes. They'd finally gotten back onto their trail, and they were close. They shuffled back to the carriage a little faster than before, pushed the coffin onto the back with the barrels and bags and pulled the tarp over the top.

Not wanting to hang around any longer, Zangetsu sat one again at the reins and whipped them down sharply, encouraging the horses to move. Shiro grabbed the side and swung himself into the passenger's seat. As he looked behind him, he could once again see the glittering lights of the Gendarmes lanterns. They'd left not a moment too soon.

Shiro chuckled again and pulled the hood of his cloak back over his bright white hair, "We did it, Uncle. We fucking did it! Ha-ha! We're finally going to Naples!"

Zangetsu couldn't help but grin too, "All in good time, _nephew_. Don't celebrate just yet; We've still got to get this back to England."

'Well, yeah, but that's a piece of cake." Shiro smirked.

The horses were running at full tilt down the dirt road. Their hooves clattered noisily against the ground and the wind whistled past them with the faint light of the moon shining down on the ecstatic expressions on their faces.

Unbeknownst to both of them, inside the coffin was not 140 pounds of opium, but the next heir to the French throne. With all the shaking from the carriage, Ichigo slowly began to stir. He drowsily opened his eyes only to see nothing but pitch black. Where was he? What the hell had happened? He could only think these thought for a few seconds before a large bump in the road smashed his head onto the coffin lid and knocked him back into unconsciousness.

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I'm just telling you now that I've never spoken a work of French in my life and in this fanfic, my recounts of actual history will be a bit askew, but it's for the good of the readers! And if there are any French-speakers who know I've written something wrong, feel free to correct me :)

I really like the plot to this, just putting it out there. And I'm writing more for my other two fanfics where I can, when I can. But assesment is a bitch.

ENJOY!


	2. The Wrong Shipment

**The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo [Chapter 2: The Wrong Shipment]**

**Pairing: Hichigo x Ichigo **

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any Bleach characters just cause.**

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The shipping docks in France were always a spectacle; always bustling with the newest imports and fresh catches of fish. The docks stretched along the coast with every type of boat imaginable tied up. A constant breeze of salty air flowed in off the English Channel and into the Seine. It was a large hub for the fishing market and travelling boats moved back and fourth from Britain so almost every morning, the area was always extremely busy. There were so many different things going on in fact that two strange Englishmen were hardly noticed, even with the suspiciously shaped covered object on the back of their cart. Shirosaki had a permanent grin plastered to his face and his over-exuberance was getting on Zangetsu's nerves.

Zangetsu roughly elbowed the white-haired boy, "Stop it."

Shiro turned and raised an eyebrow, "Why aren't you as happy as I am? You know better than I do how much this changes our lives."

"Don't get too cocky, Shiro," Zangetsu said. A child ran past in front of the horses and he tugged back on the reigns. "I won't be grinning until the money from this shipment is firmly in my own hands."

"Really?" Shiro grimaced, "That'll be at least a few days from now. Jesus you're boring." He folded his arms and watched the fisherman tipping their catch into crates and stacking them onto the backs of their trucks, ready to be sent into town for the markets. More boring people.

"Hush." Zangetsu responded sternly. "Just stay quiet and keep your hat pulled down."

Shiro huffed but stayed silent. Zangetsu always asked him to cover up his hair. He cursed its colour almost every second day. With such a reputation as theirs, it paid not to have any particularly distinguishable features, like silvery-white hair for example. Though, there was very little he could do about it than cover it up. Even in the darkness of night, it was easier to spot.

With Zangetsu's excellent steering skills, they'd easily escaped the clutches of the gendarmes last night and sleeping on the ground was nothing new to them as they parked the cart somewhere secluded and camped under a tree. When the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, they woke, fed the horses, got back onto the cart and made their way directly to Le Havre. It took a while to reach the coast, but thankfully they weren't as far away as they had originally thought. By mid-morning as the sun was still climbing up into the sky, they reached Le Havre.

After scanning around for a while, Zangetsu finally caught sight of a sturdy shipping boat. Despite its size, it was sleek and well built with a fresh coat of white paint. He led the horses over and stopped beside the dock. A one-armed woman with dark hair spiking out at all angles appeared in front of the pair. Her chest seemed to explode out of her poorly tied shirt and with every movement, it bounced around threateningly. She eyed the pair up, "_Parl__ez__ vous Anglais? (Do you speak English?)_"

When Zangetsu nodded, her face broke out into a welcoming smile, "I thought so. Looking to send something back to England are you?"

Zangetsu nodded again, "Indeed we are. You see, I'm looking to send my recently deceased son back home to my wife."

Shiro whipped around to look at Zangetsu. What did he just say? Even as a cover story, to mention _that_ person, of all people... Hadn't he banned talking about that painful memory?

"Well then, you've come to the right person!" said the one-armed woman. "Shiba Kukaku would never refuse such a plight, although I do warn you that my boat's main export is explosives."

Zangetsu shook his head, "That doesn't worry me, I'm sure you're a very capable, if not lovely captain."

Shirosaki rolled his eyes.

Kukaku grinned at the compliment, "I assure you, your son is in good hands."

With his gaze still focused of Zangetsu, Shiro managed to notice his eye twitch at the woman's comment. The wording of her sentence couldn't have been more harmful.

Zangetsu continued like the twitch never happened and stepped down off the cart. He turned to Shiro, "I'll discuss the costs while you lower the coffin onto the ground. But can you do it delicately, so it does actually look like there _is_ a body in there?"

"Sure, sure." As Shiro jumped down off the passenger seat, Zangetsu walked off with Kukaku to barter. Shiro kept himself aware of his surroundings; he still didn't trust Zangetsu's judgement. He moved around to the back of the cart, threw off the covering tarp and frowned. The coffin weighed as much as he did, if not more. So he'd need to drag it out slowly and slide it down. It would've been much easier to just step up onto the cart and push the coffin off, but he needed to treat it like there was a proper body-filled coffin. Meaning more work. Earlier they had pushed the coffin on feet-end first, so Shiro grabbed the top end and slowly pulled it towards him.

Inside, Ichigo groggily opened his eyes. His forehead throbbed where he'd been hit by the casket lid. His head was spinning, but unlike before, he could see beams of light filtering through the gaps in the wood. Now, Ichigo could get a better understanding of where he was. And so far, it didn't look good. The air was musty, the walls around him were wooden and the daunting shape of his confinement could only mean one thing: he was in a coffin. Ichigo fought to keep his breathing steady, not wanting to use up all the clean air too quickly. The shafts of light told him that he wasn't buried yet, but that might change at any time if he didn't escape right now.

There was enough room that Ichigo could move his arms around enough to put his hands flat up against the lid and push. To his shock, the lid didn't budge. Determined not to be discouraged, Ichigo banged and pushed hard against the lid a couple more times, but with the same result. He was well and truly trapped.

Even with the sounds of Ichigo hitting the casket lid, Shirosaki didn't hear a thing because of the sheer amount of noise around him. Plus he was still too focused on the surrounding people to be worrying about the casket. It was probably because of this distraction that he accidentally pulled the casket out too far and it started to tilt.

Ichigo felt this shift and an uneasy sensation passed through his body as he began to tip head first to the top of the coffin.

A little too late, Shiro realised that the coffin was falling out and he jumped out of the way as it tumbled onto the ground with a loud '_CRASH-CRACK-THUMP_!' The coffin fell onto its side and rolled a few times, finally stopping lid-side up a few steps away from the cart. Shiro bit his lip and swore to himself. So much for delicate descent. Thankfully, onlookers took his shock as fear for the condition of the body inside. A stout man from kukaku's boat had seen the event and stepped forwards.

"Oh no, I hope the poor fellow in there is okay." The man said, shocked.

Shiro nodded grimly. Now he needed to inspect for any cracks or breakages that would give away the true contents. He couldn't work up the effort to look worried when he turned to the man, "I need to get it back onto the cart, can you help?"

"Why of course!"

Shirosaki had known it would've been downright rude to refuse and with the nameless man's help, the coffin was back onto the cart in no time. _Back where it started_, Shiro thought with a heavy sigh.

Inside the coffin, Ichigo was once again down for the count. When the coffin had fallen, his head was the first to hit the ground and the resulting rolling had easily sent him back into unconsciousness. Blood was steadily trickling again from the top of his head and he would be no doubt supporting multiple other bruises later.

Using his arms to hoist himself up onto the back, Shiro squatted beside the coffin. He inspected it nervously. What if the fall had ripped open a bag and was spilling opium everywhere? What if there was a hole? Shiro ran his hands over the corners and everything was fine until his hand passed over the now broken lock. The padlock was bent so that it was hanging limply and ready to fall off at any moment. _That must've been the loud crack I heard_, Shiro thought grimly.

After looking around twice, Shiro delicately pulled the padlock off and squinting his eyes, opened the lid just enough so that he could get a better look at inside. The inside was dark but he could make out a definite shape in the tiny pockets of light. Taking the risk and opening the lid a tiny bit wider, what he saw made his heart miss a beat.

Shirosaki's mouth fell open in horror and his face turned a few shades paler. It was hard not to recognise the fiery orange hair and frowning face, after all he'd seen it a million times on the missing posters throughout France. It was Ichigo Kurosaki, the missing prince. "Oh _fuck_," Shiro swore under his breath, one of many words that had had come to mind upon realising the dead body's identity. He hastily closed the coffin lid.

He didn't know what to do. They couldn't just leave the coffin there, because about a thousand people had seen them with it. They'd get arrested for sure. Every single Frenchman in the country would be after them. If Shirosaki had been paranoid before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.

Without thinking, he vaulted over into the drivers seat. He picked up the reigns and gave them a swift whip. The horses whinnied loudly and heaved the cart into motion. Shiro did his best to steer the cart wide of the throng of people and with a sharp tug to the right, lead the cart up onto the pathway back into main Le Havre.

If Shiro had looked back, he would've seen Zangetsu's shocked expression turn to anger. Zangetsu excused himself, spieling something along the lines of '_distraught son_', '_too much for him_' and bolted after the quickly disappearing cart, the tail of his cloak billowing violently behind him. Even as he ran as quickly as he could, by the time he reached the end of the dock and back onto hard land, the cart was gone from his sight. Zangetsu came to a slow stop, huffing and panting. "I should've left your sorry arse in England," He said, gasping for air.

Shiro's heart was still racing a mile a minute as he pulled the cart around into a tall orchard. It was a tight fit and a few fruits tumbled down and bounced off the cart. Shiro loaded his pistol and stood up on the seat. He'd stuck to the side streets as he'd torn through town but anyone with enough curiosity could've followed him easily.

Every few seconds he'd glance at the coffin nervously, his mind constantly drawn back to it, now that he knew that there was dead royalty in there. It didn't bother Shiro in the slightest that the person was dead, that aspect of it gave him no grief. But what did, was the person's extremely high status. If they were found with the body of Prince Ichigo, they might as well start walking down to the gallows right now.

It was because of this stray thought that Shiro finally remembered Zangetsu. There was no doubting that when he did find his nephew, he would be pissed. But Shiro couldn't move the cart now, his high-strung nerves prevented him from doing so. So it was up to Zangetsu to find him.

Zangetsu obviously knew his nephew better than he thought, because less than an hour later, Shiro spotted him turn the corner of the building that stood not too far from the orchard. And just like he'd predicted his uncle looked ready to snap the boy in two. Shiro grudgingly pulled the hood off of his head, holstered his gun and stepped down off the cart. Zangetsu clearly saw him and stomped down into the orchard.

"Just what in Gods name were you trying to pull back there?" Zangetsu thundered, "Does the word 'covert' mean absolutely _anything_ to you, you idiot?"

"Listen to me, inside the coffin is an _actual_ body," Shiro started.

Zangetsu ignored him and continued, "There is no way we can go back to Le Havre's Docks now! _Damn it_, Shiro! You better-"

"-It's _him_!" Shiro blurted out. He could feel his anger rising again.

Zangetsu paused, "Who?"

"Ichigo Kurosaki! That French Prince that got himself kidnapped! Instead of our big shipment of drugs, we get a casket with; get this, a dead fucking body!" Shiro kicked a fallen fruit and sent it flying, "_FUCK_!"

Zangetsu looked at him warily and moved over to the cart while Shiro leant against the nearest tree in a huff. Just when he'd been so excited that things were finally going their way, they had to go and pick up the wrong casket. It made him angrier thinking about how much money they would've made on that one drug shipment; it would've been enough to secure a solid sanctuary in Naples, oh how Shiro wanted to be there. Anywhere but here.

After a few silent minutes, Zangetsu returned to Shiro's side. "He's not dead."

"Are you serious?" Shiro watched him nod and bit his lip.

"This complicates things."

Shiro raised an eyebrow, "How?"

"If he was dead, then we could safely bury him or leave him somewhere to be found without any worries, but now," Zangetsu turned away from Shiro and back to the cart.

Shiro followed him and took the chance to look into the still open casket. Even as he looked again for a second time, the prince still looked totally and utterly dead. He was terribly pale and looked battered and bruised (not to mention the dried blood in his hair). But actually, after looking at him for more than a few seconds, he saw the tiniest movement from his chest as he breathed in ever so lightly.

Zangetsu closed the coffin, closing Ichigo back into darkness again, "But now, we can't rid of him so easily. It'll be harder to drop him off somewhere without accidentally giving him information about our identities." He pointed at Shiro, "We know that he can't know who we are yet because he's either shut in the dark or unconscious. Let's keep it that way."

"Why of course." Shiro said innocently.

After staring his nephew down to make sure he took his word seriously, Zangetsu walked off out of the orchard and towards the village, "I'm going to find a safe path out of Le Havre. Shiro, you stay with the prince. And _do_ _not_ lift that coffin lid."

As Zangetsu's back was turned, Shiro waited until he was gone from his sight, then a few minutes more and immediately lifted one side of the lid up high. The curiosity was too overwhelming not to. His original unsettledness with being around the body was gone now that he knew that the prince was alive. He studied the contours of Ichigo's face and noted that aside from hair colour, the pair looked very much alike. The similarities were mesmerising. Shiro had always considered himself to be quite attractive, but there was something about Ichigo that was attractive in its own way.

The prince was wearing much more common clothes than Shiro would've expected for royalty, but they were still of a high standard that could only be found with expensive clothing. Shiro also couldn't see any jewellery on the prince, probably because whoever put him in the coffin already took it – the tell tale signs of your basic robbery. But why bury him alive? He leaned inwards, peering closer at Ichigo and nearly jumped when Ichigo's eyes shot open.

Ichigo caught sight of him and they stared at each other. Like a mirror image, when Shiro silently pulled back, Ichigo started to move upright. He was obviously also in shock at their similarities and they both gaped at one another, mouths slightly open. _"Hé! Que-" (Hey! What-) _Ichigo began.

'_-BANG!'_

Shiro had done the only thing he could think of at that point in time, which was to slam the lid shut. Out of shock and surprise at Ichigo waking up, his arm moved before his brain even began to register. There was a groan from inside then silence once more.

"... Shit." Shiro sneaked a quick peak into the coffin again and Ichigo wasn't moving. He quietly stepped down backwards from the cart and decided to leave it well alone. Zangetsu was not going to be happy when he told him that Ichigo knew what he looked like now. Not very happy indeed.

After a while of sitting under a tree and dozing, there was the sound of footsteps, indicating Zangetsu's return. Shiro jumped off the ground and out to where he could see him. He looked at the coffin and then back to his uncle, hoping he hadn't left any evidence that the casket had been opened.

Zangetsu saw the strange glance and paused, "What's wrong?"

"No, nothing," Shiro lied, "I just thought you were someone else for a moment."

Zangetsu rolled his eyes, "You need to be more alert then. What would you've done if I really was someone else, hm? Come on, I've found a safe was out of here."

Shiro followed him back onto the cart and with a flick of the reigns, they took off out of the orchard in a hurry. As the cart sped back down onto a main road, Shiro tugged his hood back over his face and thought about how to tell his uncle that he'd fucked up.

* * *

How Zangetsu hasn't killed Shiro yet is beyond me. Family is a funny thing. And poor Ichigo! Knocked unconscious twice within the same chapter, now that's rotten luck. You'll see him conscious in the future :)

Sorry it's been so long. I'm on holidays so I should hopefully update more. But anyway, hope you're enjoying this fan-fiction so far because it's been fun planning it :D

Comments and reviews will be used to get rid of that coffin lid, because all it seems to be good for is knocking Ichigo out!


	3. Skittish like a Rabbit

**The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo: [Chapter 3: Skittish like a Rabbit]**

**Pairing: Hichigo Shirosaki (Dark/Hollow Ichigo) x Ichigo Kurosaki**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any BLEACH characters (nor am I skilled at French, but that's another issue :P)**

* * *

After a few hours of travel, Le Havre was far behind Zangetsu and Shirosaki. The townships and buildings had once again turned into trees and forgotten pathways with their winding dirt tracks and lamp-less borders. Getting lost here meant at least a day of aimless wandering if on foot, but this was a perfect place for the unlawful travellers and their unwanted cargo. Out here, Shiro was free not to wear his cloak hood and happily yanked it back off of his head as soon as he was able to.

With all this extra time on his hands in the passenger seat of the cart, Shirosaki used the majority of it thinking about how to break the news to his uncle, Zangetsu, that his appearance was now known to the currently unconscious prince that slept in the coffin sitting on the back of their cart. The day so far seemed to be one big reel of twists and shocks; first the horror of finding a body where there should've been drugs, then the announcement that he was actually still with the living, and now the issue that he now knew what Shiro looked like. The white-haired boy felt utterly exhausted and it wasn't even late afternoon yet.

He hadn't thought of any easy way to break the bad news to Zangetsu yet and time was ticking by. His uncle was one of very few people who had any control over Shiro and he wasn't looking forward to the verbal assault that would follow his confession. He finally cleared his throat and began, "Zangetsu?"

"Hm?"

"He knows what I look like." Shiro had never been good at being subtle. Something seemed to crack in the air between the pair and he had a good idea that he was about to find out what.

"Hichigo Shirosaki!..." The tone of Zangetsu's voice rose up a few notches threateningly.

"Look, he was out cold one second and the next-," Shiro raised his hands up in front of him and widened his eyes to indicate Ichigo suddenly waking up. "Just like that!"

"I thought I told you. God _damnit_ I told you-!" Zangetsu said, the anger in his voice as thick as tar.

"It was too damn late by then! But I knocked him out the second he saw me!"

Zangetsu shook his head, "You absolute idiot!"

Shiro frowned at him accusingly, "What the fuck else was I supposed to do! Let him just walk off?"

The heated argument continued and it was a good thing that they were far from anyone for miles because the volume of their voices got to a point where the birds were taking flight to get away from the commotion. If the din was loud enough to wake the dead, then it made short work of Ichigo's unconsciousness.

Ichigo's eyes shot right open and his head rebounded off the lid again, but this time not hard enough to cause any damage. He felt around the edges of the coffin and seizing his chance, he lifted the lid slowly and slid it to the side. Looking around for the noise-makers, he quickly spotted the guy he had seen earlier with the white hair who was bickering in English with a ragged older man in black.

"You always disobey me! Couldn't you just do as I say for once? Is it really _that_ hard?"

"Yes, yes it is! You've got so many damn rules all the time! I can barely even take one fucking step without breaking like ten!"

As they continued to tussle with words, Ichigo had ample time to turn over and slide slowly out of the coffin while staying low. He didn't care about their identities; all he cared about was getting away from them before he found himself down for the count in that casket again. With another roll and a tumble, Ichigo hit the ground running.

Shiro just happened to pause as he took in another deep breath to yell with when he heard a scuffle in the back. He swung to look at the coffin and saw it lid askew and empty. He saw a quick flash of orange. Ichigo had just thrown himself down off the back but he was quickly going to get smaller. "Shit, he's getting away!" Shiro vaulted over his seat and with quick treading, over the back of the cart and rolled off and onto the dusty road.

He hit the ground awkwardly but with a push off from his feet, he was back up again and running full tilt in the direction of Ichigo. He could hear Zangetsu pulling the horses around but he couldn't afford to look back. Ichigo was _fast_. But Shiro's history of running from the police gave him enough stamina to slowly reduce the distance between them.

Suddenly Zangetsu on the cart shot past and screeched to a halt way in front of Ichigo, blocking his path. This sudden barricade made Ichigo slow to the side, just enough so that with Shiro still running as fast as he could, the gap shrank exponentially.

In another few steps and a leap forwards, Shiro grabbed onto the back of Ichigo's shirt and dragged him down onto the ground with him. A cloud of dirt was kicked into the air as the pair struggled. Ichigo was unwilling to give up but neither was Shiro ready to let him get away. Ichigo struck out wildly and made it hard for Shiro to hold him down, but eventually, he got him into an arm lock and sat on top of him to stop him from rolling.

"Hold, the fuck, still! Oi Zangetsu!" Shiro called back but never took his eyes away from the prince.

Knowing that he had lost, Ichigo stopped thrashing and with his hands held together in front of him, he glared at Shiro. Shiro glared back and tightened his grip.

Zangetsu appeared with rope in hand and bound Ichigo's hands and feet. "That was too close."

"We definitely can't just drop him off somewhere now. He knows what you look like too. And your name." Shiro bit his lip, only now was he realising the gravity of what he'd done by opening the coffin lid. He had no idea what they were going to do now. And then suddenly a flash of inspiration caught him by surprise. His eyes widened, "I have an idea."

"What?"

"We should kill him, but we can't because he's too important. We'd be hunted down like wild game. And we can't downplay this; it's too late for that. So I say we use him to our advantage." Shiro never took his eyes of the redhead.

Zangetsu raised a curious eyebrow, "You sure you've thought this one through? If we take him with us it means that it might take longer to get to Naples."

"It's taken us this long to get there so some extra time means nothing to me. Or did you forget about our promise?"

Shiro heard him chuckle behind him, "Of course not; you remind me every damn day. If you think this is a good idea, then I'm not going to stop you."

Ichigo continued to stare blatantly at Shiro, but there was something in his eyes that said that he understood everything that they were saying. So the white-haired teen shook him a little to grab his attention, "Hey, you understand English don't you?"

Ichigo refused to even open his mouth to respond, but still nodded his head as an answer to Shiro's question.

Shiro smirked. If the Prince wanted to give him the silent treatment then fine. "You're _our_ bargaining chip now. My Uncle and I are going to keep you prisoner and use you to get to where we want to go."

Ichigo's eyes widened ever so slightly at the remark. The last thing he wanted to do was stay with these crazy people. He tried to struggle again but Shirosaki's grip on his hands was too strong to break from the position he was in. The only thing the action did was make the attacker's smirk widen.

"Resistance is useless, but don't worry, you're in safe hands." Shiro had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud at the face that Ichigo pulled. It seemed to say 'Safe? You call _this_ safe?'.

Using an old pair of police handcuffs in the back of the cart from a previous raid, Zangetsu cuffed Ichigo's hands in front of him so that Shiro could finally let his wrists go. Zangetsu tapped him on the shoulder. "You can get off him now. I think he's had enough of you sitting on him."

"Ha, really?" Shiro turned to smile at Zangetsu, "Personally I think he looks cute when he's in a huff, don't yo-_GAH_!"

While Shiro was turned, Ichigo used all his energy to roll over so that Shiro toppled off of him and onto the ground. The prince shuffled over onto his back and was about to spring himself off the ground when something cold and metal pressed against his upper-chest.

After he'd been tossed, Shiro had pulled out his pistol and had it pointed right at Ichigo's heart. They both knew that one shot to a spot like that, and he would very quickly bleed to death. "Get up slowly." He growled. With one hand on the gun and the other grasping onto the chain of the cuffs, Ichigo slowly got up off of the ground and the silent staring contest continued.

There was something about Ichigo's resilience that made Shiro think that he wasn't going to regret taking the Prince with them. Sure, it was a hassle, but it was definitely going to be fun. It had been ages since Shiro had been on a real adventure. Shiro smirked and patted Ichigo on the side of his face with the gun, "You're cute, but not that cute. If you try that again, mark my words; I _will _kill you. You understand, French Boy?"

Ichigo's lip curled up in a snarl at the nickname. He understood.

Shiro turned and started to lead him back onto the cart and that's when Ichigo suddenly dug his heels into the ground. A scared expression suddenly crossed his features, "_Non, Pas encore. (No, not again.)"_

Shiro tilted his head towards Zangetsu, "What did he say?"

"I don't think he want to get back into the coffin."

"What, is he claustrophobic or something?" he raised an eyebrow.

Zangetsu shrugged and turned back to the cart. "You deal with this, Shiro. This was your idea, not mine."

"But I don't speak French!" Shiro called after him. _Oh, and thanks a bunch for coming to my aid when he tried to make a break for it,_ he thought moodily. He looked back at the Prince and suddenly realised how most of his scratches and bruises would've happened. He must've been tossed around a lot inside the coffin. Shiro had to think over how many other times he'd been knocked unconscious and forced to wake up again in the same enclosing darkness. No wonder he didn't want to get back into it. But there wasn't any where else to put him. Shiro tried to pull the Prince along again but he stayed rooted to the ground. He sighed, "Okay, how about I sit you in the coffin, but I don't put the lid over you, how's that?"

Ichigo relaxed his body slightly, _"_..._Correct. (Fine.)"_

Shiro frowned. This whole different languages thing was going to get annoying fast. But from the way that Ichigo relaxed a little, it sounded like he'd agreed. Now he wasn't a master at reading body-language, but it was all he had to go off of, seeing as Ichigo had decided not to respond in English – which Shiro _knew_ he could if he wanted to. It was probably his own little way of rebelling against his captors and Shiro would let it slide for now, or at least until it became infuriating.

But first, they needed to get back onto their original path. Ichigo was less than impressed at the lack of care as Shiro hoisted him up by his waist and dropped down into the coffin. As if Ichigo didn't have enough scratches already. He shook his head, "_vous l'étranger fou. (You crazy foreigner)"_

"I'm sorry; I don't speak that lingo, your Royal Grumpiness." Shiro responded airily, sat cross-legged on the cart and rested his arms on the side of the coffin.

"Don't patronise him, Shiro." Zangetsu scolded from the driver's seat. With another whip of the reigns, the cart was set back into motion. The movement made them wobble slightly, but it was nice to feel back on path again, and this time, Zangetsu hoped for less slip ups.

Shiro smirked, "Since I'm _apparently_ in charge of him, I should be able to do whatever I want with him." He threw a sultry wink Ichigo's way just to ruffle his feathers again.

And it worked like a charm. Ichigo glared at him again and kicked out at the wall of the coffin that Shiro was leaning against, making him flinch back. The captured prince had accepted the fact that he was stuck with them, but knowing that they weren't going to kill him gave him more time to escape. They would slip up eventually and Ichigo would have fun shutting up that white bastard. It was unnerving that Shiro looked so much like him. Was this some kind of devil in disguise, sent out to get him for all his wrong-doings and unlawful sins?

Ichigo turned his head towards Zangetsu, _"Pourquoi me ressemble-t-il?"(Why does he look like me?)"_

Surprisingly, the dark-haired man responded, probably because he was the only one who could, "Coincidence. You're not related."

Shiro frowned and rested his head on his arms. He didn't like missing out the conversation, but he could probably gather what was going on from what Zangetsu said in response – unless he decided to respond in French as well, then Shiro would really pout.

_"Mais ça ne m'empêchera pas de frapper son visage. __(But that will not stop me from punching his face.)"_ He looked back at Ichigo again and smirked, "_Démon blanc. (White demon.)"_

Zangetsu tried to hold back a snort of laughter but failed.

Shiro's eyes narrowed. "What did he just call me?" He knew the 'demon' part but had no clue what the '_blohnc'_ part meant and boy did that piss him off.

"I called you a- _urgh..._" Ichigo's world spun around him and he fell forwards in the coffin.

"Woah!" Shiro barely noticed that Ichigo had finally responded in English as he leaned forwards himself with his hands extended to catch the tipping prince. He held him up with a hand squarely on his chest.

Ichigo shook his head clear and blinked away the stars running around his vision. What had just happened? He still felt a little wobbly and was comforted when he realised that there was a firm hand on his chest. He really nearly smiled until he remembered where he was and exactly whose hand was holding him up.

Shiro looked at him closely and this stare was more about concern rather than malice. Ichigo couldn't help but feel every contour of the warm hands on his chest and shoulder that were holding him steady. "Hey," Shiro said, "I think you might have a concussion so be careful-"

Ichigo fought back an uncomfortable blush. Shiro's sudden change in personality had him reeling a little...

"- because you're totally useless to us if you're brain-dead; I might as well tip you over onto the road now if it's going to be like that." Shiro looked like he would genuinely enjoy tipping Ichigo out of the cart.

The prince's eye twitched. Just what the hell had he just been thinking? This white demon and his shaggy friend were going to use him as a bartering tool to get out of whatever shit they'd gotten themselves into and would happily kill him if things didn't go their way. This wasn't a sunny day trip; his hands were bound together and he was sitting in a fucking coffin. He quickly sat upright and smacked Shiro's hand off of his chest.

_"Laisser-moi seul! (leave me alone!)"_ Ichigo spat, absolutely glowering and hating himself for thinking so naïvely. No wonder he'd gotten captured by such a band of idiots.

"Well same to you, asshole!" Shiro countered, totally oblivious to Ichigo's earlier inner turmoil.

Zangetsu seemed quite content on being the third wheel and staying quiet in the driver's seat. Though he just couldn't resist saying, "Somehow I get the feeling that he doesn't like you very much, Shiro."

Still wound up, Shiro directed his annoyance at his uncle, "Did I ask for your opinion, old man? No, I freaking didn't. So shut up! And _you_!" He pointed accusingly at the redhead, "You should probably stop chattering in French and shut up as well!"

Ichigo blinked at him for a moment then let out a loud, amused laugh. _"Si ma langue t'ennui  
tellement alors je 'bavarderai' heureusement jusqu'à ce que mes lèvres  
tombent! __(If my language annoys you so much then I will happily 'chatter' until my lips fall off!)"_

Shiro actually had to reel back slightly at the sudden barrage of endless French. He'd heard a million French people speaking, but the way Ichigo threw it all at him with one breath was just so vicious and intense. Though that didn't stop Shiro from yelling back. "Why you son of a bitch! Say _one_ _more_ word and I'll put that coffin lid back over you again."

And Ichigo was back to glaring at Shiro again. "_Démon blanc!"_

"Prissy Prince!" Shirosaki quickly returned the glare and the pair silently fumed at each other, almost telepathically insulting each other with every obscenity they knew. Their faces were close together, daring the other to turn away. If the cart happened to go over a large bump, they would've hit their head together.

Zangetsu ignored the silently squabbling pair behind him and focused his gaze on the pathway. He couldn't help but groan inwardly. It was starting to look like that had similar personalities as well as their appearance. "I wonder what would happen if I dumped the both of them on the side of the road?" He said out loud to no one in particular.

Then a familiar silvery voice snapped back, "Hey, you in the front! I told you to shut up!"

* * *

Well, now we get a look at Ichigo when he's conscious! Boy is he witty. I can really see Zangetsu tossing them out of his cart and letting them battle it out there and then on the side of the road, haha. So what's going to happen to this unlikely trio and what awaits them in the future? Stay tuned and find out ;D

Comments and reviews will be used to bump the cart and get Shiro and Ichigo to bump their heads together! (God knows they need a time out :P)

**EDIT: Lo' and behold! I am saved from using those incorrect online translators by the wonderful Fellmekke (.net/u/2731118) who has kindly offered to translate the French text for me! The text in this chapter has already been properly translated and I hope Fellmekke will continue to help me from now on :D**


	4. Unhappy Customers

**The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo [Chapter 4: Unhappy Customers]**

**Pairing: Hichigo Shirosaki (Dark/Hollow Ichigo) x Ichigo Kurosaki**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any BLEACH characters (they are Mr. Kubo's wonderful, wonderful creations)**

* * *

A silence had fallen over the cart just over an hour ago when the pair had tired of their endless back and fourth of taunting. And sure enough, Shiro was slowly getting bored. He'd quietly sat in the back of the cart next to Ichigo who was cross-legged in the coffin, and watched the surroundings as they'd slowly passed through the thickest parts of the forest. There was very little for Shirosaki to do, seeing as he and his uncle had only packed the very basics and Zangetsu would rather face the Gendarmes than willingly give Shiro the horses' reigns.

The first (and last) time Zangetsu had tried to teach the his nephew how to drive a cart when he was a bit younger, Shiro had somehow managed to overturn it and catch it on fire. Swift reflexes were the only reason why they escaped unscathed. Since then, driving had been solely Zangetsu's job. But it was times like this when Shiro was willing to risk their safety behind the reigns once more just so things would liven up a little. Shirosaki leaned over the front seats of the cart to get a better look at his uncle. "Are we there yet?"

Zangetsu glanced over at his nephew quickly before returning his gaze to the road. "No, not yet, but we will be soon. The next turnoff is to Rouen, where we will spend the night and buy more supplies."

"Food; that definitely sounds like a good idea." Shiro was just beginning to realise that he hadn't eaten in quite a while, probably because of all the commotion up until this point. "You didn't grab anything for us to eat in Le Havre, did you?"

"No, I was too busy trying to chase you down to think about food," His Uncle smiled wryly. "If you look around the back, I thought I saw one last bread roll from our last stock-up."

"Sweet!" Ichigo watched quietly from the coffin as Shiro searched around him in the various small bags for the bread. When he found it, he was happy to see that it was still good to eat. He was about to hungrily tear into it when he noticed Ichigo's eyes on him. "Oh, right, do you want some, Princey?"

Ichigo shook his head stubbornly, "_Je ne le moindrement affamé. (I'm not the least bit hungry.)_"

Shiro rolled his eyes, "translation anyone?"

"I'm not hungry." Ichigo answered in perfect English.

Shiro's eyes widened dramatically, "So you _do _speak English! I _knew_ it! You..." His words trailed off when a loud rumble sounded from Ichigo's stomach. His expression slowly turned into a sneer as Ichigo's face turned pink with embarrassment, "Oh? Who's not hungry again?"

Shiro let out a loud laugh as Ichigo continued to blush, "I can see why you're trying to be stubborn, but there's no helping it if you're hungry. And besides," Shiro tore the bread roll in half, "What kind of criminals would we be if we didn't keep our bargaining chip in healthy condition."

Now Ichigo felt even less inclined to accept the bread from him. But with his hands still bound together, he couldn't put up much of a fight when Shiro shoved the other half of the roll into his mouth. "..._Merci_,_"_ Ichigo muttered through the roll.

"You're welcome," Shiro responded without thinking. But wait, was he hearing things right or did the Prince just _thank_ him? Even _he _knew what 'thanks' was in French. "Oh, wow." He smirked, "Turns out you _do_ have manners after all."

Ichigo scowled and would've yelled out a retort if his mouth wasn't still full of bread roll. He could only mumble angrily under his breath.

Shiro sniggered as he munched into his own half-roll.

"Shiro, stop pestering him." Zangetsu commented sternly from the driver's seat as he turned the horses off of the main road and down the path to Rouen.

"Fine, fine. But I'm just so goddamn _bored_," Shiro huffed. Because Shiro and Zangetsu had only planned to stay on France for a week or two at the most, they only brought the basics. He looked over at his uncle; he could be fun sometimes, but he took driving too seriously to be any fun at the moment. He glanced over at Ichigo, who was trying to savour the roll without showing just how hungry he was. Ever since they stopped yelling at each other, the prince seemed to have calmed down considerably. Sure, he was still rude, but he was no longer much fun either. Shirosaki huffed again. "I wish something exciting would happen."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. He'd seen ADHD kids with longer attention spans. When he finished his share of the bread, he spoke up, "I would've thought that kidnapping royalty would be exciting enough."

Shiro nodded thoughtfully, "Indeed it would. But I'd never try something so suicidal, not even for the thrill of it."

The redhead frowned slightly, "And yet you still kidnapped me."

"We didn't." Shiro chewed and gulped down the last of his bread. He couldn't help but smile, knowing how much this would rile the redhead up. "Zangetsu and I never kidnapped you – we _found_ you."

Ichigo's eyes widened and he snapped his head around to look at his captor. _"Quoi, mais comment..pourquoi avez-vous...(What, but how... why did you...)"_

"Huh? I thought I told you." Shiro turned to Zangetsu in mock surprise, "Didn't I tell him?"

"No, you didn't."

"Oops, sorry." The pale teen shrugged.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "You don't look very sorry."

Shiro shrugged off the Prince's glare. "It doesn't really matter if I told you or not, in the end you're still our bargaining chip."

It hit Ichigo that Shiro was totally right; knowing how he ended up in this situation wouldn't help him back out of it. But if it wasn't these two English morons, then who?

"I thought you'd be a little angrier at us than _that_. We're the reason you're still being held captive." Shiro jeered, but Ichigo didn't rise to the obvious jibe. He was too busy trying to figure out who wanted him dead so badly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember anything past leaving through the castle gates, something he had done nearly two days prior to waking up again inside the coffin. He looked down at the cuffs binding his hands and a tiny feeling of helplessness seemed to creep into the back of his mind. "... Where did you find me? Did you see anyone else there?"

Shiro turned away from Ichigo, still grumpy and still bored, "As if I'd tell you."

"Fine. _Comment ai-je fini comme ceci ? Pourquoi étais-je dans un cercueil ? __(How did I end up like this? Why was I in a coffin?)_"

"French, _pah_." Shiro muttered.

"_Nous t'avons trouvés à l'intérieur du hall d'une Cathédrale. En dehors de ça, je ne sais pas. __Désolé. (We found you inside the hall of a Cathedral. Other than that, I don't know. I'm sorry.)"_ Zangetsu answered. Ichigo was surprised to hear the older man apologise. Before he could say anything else, the older man continued, "I can start to see a few buildings now. Shiro, cover up your hair."

"Yessir," the white-haired teen obediently pulled the hood of his coat over his head just above his eyebrows. He then stood up on the back of the cart and faced Ichigo. He looked down at him with a grin. At least he was going to get some delight out of doing this, "As much as I enjoy looking at your stubborn face, we need you to out of sight for a while."

When Shiro pulled out a strip of material out from a bag, Ichigo's eyes widened, "Pas question, cette conversation n'est pa -mph! _(No way, this conversation isn't -mph!)" _Before he could move, the material was wrapped over his mouth and tied tight.

"And you're probably going to hate me for this too," In one fluid motion, Shiro pushed Ichigo down onto his back and pulled his legs out straight so that he was now neatly lying in the coffin. Unease seeped through Ichigo's body and although he wanted to leap up and punch his captor's lights out, all his strength left him as the lid of the coffin closed him back in. Ichigo went rigid with a fear that even _he_ didn't understand.

Shiro looked expectantly at the coffin, waiting to hear Ichigo make some kind of noise of protest, but when he heard nothing, he just shrugged, not realising that Ichigo was all but paralysed. He was about to sit down on top of the coffin when he felt the cart slow to a stop. Shiro looked up at Zangetsu, "Hey, what are you doing? There's no way that we're in Rouen yet."

"There are people blocking the way," Zangetsu said. And true enough, about thirty feet ahead of the horses were two men that had stepped out onto the road and were slowly making their way towards Shiro and Zangetsu. They were dressed in simple clothing like the vast majority of middle-class people in France, both with light blonde hair and similar features that suggested that they were brothers.

Shiro's eyes narrowed as he peered at the pair, "They look familiar."

Zangetsu frowned and slowly moved his hand into the right side of his coat where he kept a small dagger hidden. "They should. They're the people we were supposed to give the shipment to."

"Well, _shit._" Shiro grimaced at their bad fortune and pulled his hood further over his face. There was no way that they could tell them that their opium was gone; either buried six feet under or taken by whoever wanted the prince. As he looked closer at the blonde brothers, he could see that they had gone past the point of desperation.

The older brother stoped metres away from the cart and held his arms wide as if he were greeting an old friend, "What a surprise! I never would've thought that I'd see you here, Zangetsu," He glanced at Shiro, "and your pale brat too."

Shiro's lip curled and he twitched his hand, itching to grab the pistol at his hip.

The younger brother seemed to read his mind. He pulled out his own gun and held it up in their direction. "Give us the opium."

"We don't have it," Zangetsu replied bluntly.

"You lie!" He pointed the gun at the coffin behind Shiro, "You've got it right there!"

Shiro was already getting sick and tired of this blonde idiot. "I hate to disappoint you," he sneered, "but this is just your average coffin with a body inside it."

The older brother looked at Zangetsu, "Is this true?" When he nodded, he motioned his sibling to move forwards, "Then you won't mind if we have a look then, will you?"

Zangetsu and his nephew looked at each other, both understanding that they couldn't let the blonde brothers see the Prince. Zangetsu slowly stood up, silently announcing his refusal to co-operate. Shiro pulled his hood back and whipped out his pistol, pointing it directly at the younger blonde.

The older blonde sighed as if he'd expected this kind of reaction from the beginning, "So that's how it is. I'm sorry Zangetsu, but we're going to have to kill you."

As he motioned to his brother, Zangetsu pulled forth his dagger, jumped down from the cart and rushed at him. The younger blonde turned his gun at Zangetsu but Shiro fired upon him, _BANG!_, the bullet shooting through his gun hand. Droplets of blood burst out into the air and the kid clutched his hand close with a yelp.

Inside the coffin, the sound of the gunshot was loud and clear, startling Ichigo. Something was wrong. But he was still too paralysed to move.

"No!" The taller blonde pulled out his own blade and held it up in defence as Zangetsu thrust his own forward. As he and Zangetsu tussled, Shiro leapt down to take out the younger blonde, not realising that the kid had switched the pistol to his opposite hand. The kid pointed the gun at him and fired off a round that missed Shiro's ear by mere millimetres.

Shiro clutched at his ear, burnt by the bullets friction, "you little shit!" He pointed his own pistol at the blonde but the younger brother surprisingly turned his weapon on Zangetsu.

"If you shoot me, I'll shoot _him_."

Shiro wasn't sure if Zangetsu had heard him or not, but he didn't even flinch as he continued to hold up his own fight with the older blonde. The pair was practically off in their own world. Zangetsu was sticking to a strong offense and powered forwards with a decent amount of menace considering he was only armed with a dagger.

Shiro smirked, "As if I care what happens to him." _BANG! _He shot off another round but this time he buried it in the kid's arm.

The younger blonde howled again and the shock made him drop his pistol and seize his bleeding arm. His face was contorted with pain and Shiro could see that this was probably the first time the kid had ever been in a real gun fight. He couldn't help but pity him a little; it was likely that he'd been forced into this kind of life, just like Shiro had been when he was even younger than this one.

Knowing that the younger blonde was no longer capable of fighting back, Shiro hit him over the back of the head with his pistol and the kid dropped to the floor unconscious. He was about to drag the younger blonde off to the side when he heard a gunshot behind him. He quickly swivelled to see Zangetsu collapse onto the ground, clutching at his leg.

In the coffin, Ichigo was getting very worried. This was the third gunshot he'd heard and he had no clue who was shooting at who. His claustrophobia of being in the coffin still prevented him from moving, but when he heard Shiro yell out Zangetsu's name, he knew something was wrong. Ichigo bit his lip and forced his arms to move. Slowly he pushed the lid up off of the coffin and the second he saw the blue sky and tree tops above him, a weight lifted off his chest and he sat up in a hurry.

Shiro was blindly rushing to Zangetsu's side when Ichigo sat up out of the coffin. The remaining blonde brother seemed to forget about the fight when he saw Ichigo. It was obvious by his shocked expression that he knew exactly who Ichigo was; something _way_ more valuable than 140 pounds of opium.

Shiro knelt down to his uncle's eye level but Zangetsu shooed him away. Through gritted teeth he spoke, "leave me. Stop him from getting Ichigo."

His nephew looked up and noticed that the older blonde was stepping up onto the cart with his blade held aloft, moving purposefully towards the dazed redhead. "Ichigo!" Shiro yelled and rushed forwards but the prince was way ahead of him.

He wasn't having any of it and when the blonde brother thrust his blade forwards, Ichigo leant out of the way and kicked his leg up, knocking the knife out of the attacker's grip.

Shiro had clambered up onto the cart at this point and crash tackled the blonde from behind. The pair tumbled out of the other side of the cart and into the dirt. The older man tried to round on his attacker, but Shiro was merciless. He pulled out his pistol once more and fired off a round at point blank to the blonde's head.

The man twitched twice and slumped to the ground, dead. Tiny dots of blood flecked Shiro's face, standing out morbidly against his pale complexion.

Everything else was silent as the final gunshot echoed around them. Ichigo watched Shiro stand up and look at him. His yellow eyes were unrelenting and Ichigo couldn't help but be in awe of his sickening resolve. Shiro had just proved well and clear just how dangerous he could be.

Zangetsu spoke up, breaking the silence, "Ok, you can come and help me now."

Shiro hurried to his uncle's aid and helped him up off of the ground. "Where did the bullet hit?"

"Mid-leg. Luckily it missed the bone and went straight through." He winced as Shiro helped him hobble back to the cart. When he was sitting once again behind the reigns, the older man swivelled and untied the material around Ichigo's mouth to use as a bandage.

Even though he was now free to talk, the prince knew to remain silent. What's more, he was surprised to realise that while in the coffin, he had honestly been concerned for the pair's safety.

With Zangetsu's wound tended to, Shiro walked around and dragged off the body of the older blonde, until it was no longer visible from the road. He didn't even bother burying it. When he came across the still unconscious younger brother, he wasn't sure what to do.

"Drag him to the side, he'll be fine," Zangetsu said.

Shiro nodded and did as he was told. Hopefully someone would pick the kid up and take him far away from here. When he hopped back up onto the cart next to Ichigo, he noticed that the prince was still looking at him intently. A sly grin spread across his features, "Is there a reason why you haven't taken your eyes off of me? You haven't fallen for me have you?"

Ichigo frowned, "No, you have blood on your face."

"Ah, so I have," Shiro wiped his face with a cloth, "All gone?"

"Come closer, you've still got a bit there," the redhead pointed vaguely.

"Where?"

"_Here!"_ Ichigo moved his cuffed hands forwards and punched Shiro in the jaw. Hard. "That's what you get for forcing me down into the coffin again, you _bâtard blanc! (white bastard!)_"

Shiro rubbed his jaw tenderly, "You're the fucking _prince_ of this country; _everyone_ knows who you are! I think that's a good enough reason to keep you out of the way. And then when you popped out of the casket, I had to save you from that crazy blonde guy!"

"There was no need for your heroics," Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I'm more than capable of looking after myself."

Shiro crossed his arms definitively, "You sure? Because you seemed to be giving off a strong 'protect me' vibe back there. Don't blame me if I react to it."

Ichigo was no less than outraged. Protect me vibe? He had never heard of anything more ridiculous. Ichigo had learnt to hold his own in a fight since he was nine and was praised for being a fearsome opponent. This blue blood did not emit any such vibe.

As Ichigo moved in to hit Shiro once more, Zangetsu cracked the reigns and announced, "The centre of Rouen is just under a mile away."

The redhead looked at the coffin walls surrounding him with dread. Shiro reached out to him and he knew that the he was undoubtedly going to try and force him back into it again. But Ichigo's eyes widened when he felt a hand ruffle his hair.

"Bear with it until we get more supplies," Shiro spoke softly and pulled the hood of his coat back over his face so the prince couldn't see his expression. "Hey Zangetsu, while we're grabbing supplies, can we buy another hooded coat? We need a spare one anyway."

While his face was covered, Shiro missed the sight of Ichigo slowly curling up the corners of his mouth into a tender smile; the first time he'd smiled in days.

* * *

Aww what a Kodak moment. I love it when Ichigo smiles.

Alright folks, I can't believe it took me so long to get this out onto here and luckily Kitsunelover300 (.net/u/1737165/) gave me a sincere shove, wondering when the hell I was going to update. Feel free to poke me every now and again, guys. It honestly helps me write. So after a few days of writing on my laptop and phone (I wrote maybe a 3rd of this in the notes section of my blackberry. That's dedication haha) we have the final product.

Also, maybe a month back, I took a bit of a slip and a slide down the stairs and fractured my 5th metatarsal (it's a bone in the foot) and I've been an invalid for a while. I've got a moon-boot but it doesn't come off until early January! D: there goes my new years plans...

**Thanks once again to my glorious French translator, Fellmekke! (.net/u/2731118) **

Comments and reviews will be used to bully Shiro into being nicer to Ichigo more often. He needs to learn just how lovable our favourite redhead is! :3


	5. News Travels Fast

**The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo [Chapter 5: News Travels Fast]**

**Pairing: Hichigo Shirosaki (Dark/Hollow Ichigo) x Ichigo Kurosaki**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any BLEACH characters (if I had, there would be a shitload of yaoi undertones :P)**

* * *

Over a hundred miles away from the town of Rouen was the Loire Valley, a historic area of France that was well known as the cradle of the French language. There were stunning Chateaus as far as the eye could see and the beautiful scenery of lakes and vineyards were scattered in between the gaps. There was something undoubtedly majestic about the valley, something that would take ones breath away as their eyes followed along the buildings walls until they were turning in circles with wonder.

Within this valley was the city of Blois, which despite not being the most extravagant, still contained the Chateau de Blois, a cluster of semi-attached buildings with 564 rooms, each with its own fireplace and 75 winding staircases that could take you from one side of the Chateau to the other. It was at the front doors of this Chateau where two gendarmes finally slowed their horses to a stop. They had been told that the Royal Family was currently staying here and this was confirmed by the white flag with the royal coat of arms flapping in the wind upon the entrance.

Despite having entered and exited through the archway many times before, the two gendarmes still let their eyes wander over the intricate architecture. They left their horses munching contently on the grass and continued up the path on foot. Each one held a metal chain in their hands which connected to the handcuffs of a burly Englishman whom they had captured early yesterday. He was bruised and limping slightly from being harshly subdued but the gendarmes were wary enough to keep their bayonets pointed at the criminal as they lead him through the awning.

"My, my. _Qu'avons-nous ici? __(What do we have here?)"_ A voice suddenly came from behind a pillar. A blonde-haired man wearing a green and white hat appeared with a curious smile on his face. He was a familiar face in this Chateau and although no one could pin down what his exact purposes were, he was a good friend to the king and was therefore treated with respect.

The gendarmes quickly straightened their posture. The more daring of the two spoke up, "_Monsieur Urahara! __Cet homme a d'importantes évidences concernant l'emplacement du Prince Ichigo. __(This man has some important evidence concerning the whereabouts of Prince Ichigo_.)"

"Fantastic news!" Urahara waved his fan over his face, "The King will be glad to hear it. _Attendez ici._ (_Wait here_)." The blonde man then disappeared to find the king who, if his suspicions were correct, would be somewhere far away with a multitude of stairs for him to scale to get there.

In another wing, in one of the more grandeur of the 564 bedrooms were the young, twin Princesses Karin and Yuzu and their father, King Isshin. Since Ichigo had gone missing, Yuzu and Karin remained as close to the windows as possible, taking turns to stare out of them in the hope that they would spot that familiar head of bright orange hair walking back through the gardens as if he'd never even left.

Now it was Yuzu's turn to look out the window. She leant against the window sill and sighed; still no sign of Ichigo.

Isshin watched her sigh and understood her feelings perfectly. It had been just about a week since they'd last glimpsed Ichigo's frowning face, but every minute that ticked by felt like hours. The Royal Family had been staying at Vincennes, a chateau east of Paris at the time of his kidnapping and when the news had gotten to Isshin that some of Ichigo's clothes and jewellery had been found scattered in the forest away from the building, the royals' lives came to an utter stand still.

Even with everyone so tense, Isshin still tried to make his girls smile. He would pull a face or make a joke and even though Karin would most certainly berate him for it, it was worth it.

A sudden knock at the door made everyone jump. All three pairs of eyes darted to the door and Isshin leapt up off the chair he was sitting on to answer it. He opened the door to reveal a slightly panting Kisuke Urahara.

"_Monsieur Urahara_!" The girls chimed in perfect unison.

The man smiled at the girls and turned to his king. _"Quelques gendarmes dévoués ont amenés quelqu'un que je pense vraiment que vous voudriez voir. __(Some dutiful gendarmes have brought in someone that I really think you'll want to see.)_"

Isshin frowned and nodded. This would hopefully be the key they needed to locate his son.

Karin picked up on the vibe and stood up firmly. Yuzu followed suit. "Please, let us come down with you! We want to listen too," Karin pleaded in the foreign tongue.

The King smiled a wide smile, "Oh Karin, your English is getting really good! My wonderful daughters have been practicing!" His eyes softened. "_Mais s'il vous plaît, reste ici. __Je te dirais tout, je jure._ _(But please, stay here. __I will tell you everything, I swear.)"_ If the news was bad, he would rather it not fall on their ears without passing through his own first.

Although the twins wanted with all their hearts to follow him, they stayed behind and watched their father shut the door behind him. Yuzu clasped her hands together in prayer, squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could, "_S'il vous plait, faite qu'Ichigo soit correct._ (_Please, let Ichigo be okay.)"_

Karin could see the tears forming at the corners of her sister's eyes and willed herself not to cry as well, "Ichigo is fine. _Tu verras._ (_You'll see.)"_

Isshin and Urahara were busy rushing back down the stairs to the foyer. Isshin no longer acted the light-hearted father; the soft facade was gone and replaced with a poker face befitting the King of France. "Kisuke," he spoke in a stern voice, "who have they caught?"

They rounded one flight of stairs and moved on to the next. "I'm not too sure yet. I went to find you as soon as they brought him in." Urahara said.

The two gendarmes were waiting patiently in the foyer and then they saw their King walking down the last couple of stairs towards them. With a royal coat fastened over one shoulder, the material billowed as the King moved and his presence seemed to fill up every corner of the vast room. If the gendarmes had been nervous before, they were more noticeably now. Even the burly Englishman knew that this man was something else entirely.

Urahara seemed to be the only one unaffected. "_Calmez-vous, monsieur. Maintenant, où l'avez-vous trouvé?_ _(Calm down, men. __Now, where did you find him?)"_

Once again, the bolder of the two was the one to speak up, "_Dans un pub à l'est de Le Havre. __Il concorde à la description d'un homme vu s'échappant avec son associé près du dernier emplacement connu d'Ichigo._ _(In a pub east of Le Havre. He fits the description of a man seen escaping with his partner near Ichigo's last known location.)"_

"_Et son partenaire? (And his partner?)" _Isshin asked.

The Gendarme swallowed hard, unsure if the king would get angry or not as to what he said next. "_Quand nous avons appréhendé la paire, le partenaire était...Tué._ (_When we apprehended the pair, the partner was...Killed._)"

Isshin gave his best kingly smile. "_Ne vous inquiétez pas, monsieur. Vous avez tout les deux fait un super travail. Un prisonnier est assez. __(Don't worry, men. You've both done a great job. One prisoner is plenty.)_" He looked down at the captured man with contempt. "I'd like to have a word with you."

After holding his hand out, the gendarmes gave Isshin the chains attached to the Englishman's cuffs and without warning, the King yanked him forwards.

The two gendarmes started in awe as their king dragged the prisoner, who was by no means light, across the floor as if he were merely a dog on a leash.

Urahara chuckled at their expressions. "_Regardez bien. C'est probablement la dernière fois vous verrez cet Anglais vivant. __(Take a good look. That's probably the last time you'll see that Englishman alive.)"_

Isshin's voice called sternly from up ahead, "Kisuke!"

"Coming, sir!"

The King dragged the man into a small side room where he knew the walls were near soundproof, just in case a few servants put their ears to the door. The floor was also free of any carpets so he didn't need to worry about making a mess. Not that it would definitely progress to such means, but at this point, Isshin was more than mentally prepared.

Urahara closed the door behind him and leaned against the frame, blocking the only exit. The King's friend was just as curious to know what had happened to the Prince and it seemed like a good idea to hang around just in case Isshin got too carried away.

Isshin dropped the Englishman to the floor and turned to stand in front of him. He threw his coat over a nearby chair and rolled up his sleeves. "In case you haven't already worked it out, I am Isshin Kurosaki, the _King_ of France. The boy you kidnapped was my _son_."

The prisoner picked himself up off the floor, but was wise enough to stay on his knees. He was in no rush to meet the guillotine that he would inevitably end up under.

"Where is he?" Isshin loomed over the Englishman, his voice monotonous and cold.

"I...I don't know."

The king unsheathed the sword at his waist and stabbed it at the ground, centimetres away from the prisoner's face, whose quickening breath fogged the polished metal. "Let's try that again; _where is he?_"

The Englishman chose his words carefully as he looked at his own horrified face reflected on the blade. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "T-the Prince was taken by someone else. I don't know where he is."

Isshin's eyes quickly flicked up to meet Urahara's and the blonde man nodded and spoke up, "Tell us everything you know about what happened. If you do, I will make sure that your body is sent back to England."

As if Urahara had known that such a promise would help make him cooperate, the Englishman sighed, sounding almost relieved. The man had little loyalty to his boss and frankly, he'd had enough of this whole kidnapping affair. His partner was dead, he was captured and anything he could do to make his death less painful was now his only interest. "Alright. I'll tell you all that I know."

Isshin and Urahara were all ears as the Englishman began to speak, "My partner and I were sent to assist the crew who were to kidnap the Prince from Vincennes but according to what I've heard, they found him on the outskirts of Paris but he escaped after fighting off the crew. We caught up with him as he ran back to the Chateau and were ordered to knock him out, lock him into a coffin and hide it in a cathedral to be buried."

Isshin dragged his sword against the ground, the metal scraping the concrete threateningly. As restrained as the king was, he still had difficulty listening to the Englishman talk about how his only son was to be buried, _alive_ no less, in an unmarked grave for the sole reason of being royalty. This was probably the first time since his wife's death that he'd silently cursed his title.

"Continue," Urahara said to the apprehensive prisoner.

"...We left the Prince in the cathedral and left quickly because we heard Gendarmes in the distance. We told this to the crew and they said that they wanted to double check that the Prince was still there before the workmen came back the next day to bury the coffins. When the leader of the crew returned, he told us that the coffin was gone."

"What do you mean by 'gone'?" The king said, somewhat disbelieving.

The Englishman shook his head, "It wasn't there anymore. My partner and I were afraid that we'd get blamed so we decided to see for ourselves and true enough, there was an empty space where the coffin had been. There was only one other coffin closed over at the time and even stranger still, it was filled with bags and bags of opium."

Urahara and Isshin exchanged another glance. Something strange was going on here. "Your story seems a little too far fetched to be true," Urahara questioned.

"No! I swear I'm not lying. Someone _else_ took the missing prince." The prisoner genuinely looked like he was telling the truth.

"And then what happened?" Isshin said.

"We were told to fan out and search for the missing coffin. After a day or two, my partner and I were in a pub and there, we got nabbed by the gendarmes. And now here I am. But I know for a fact that so far no one has managed to locate the Prince. It's like he disappeared without a trace."

Urahara scratched his chin absentmindedly. "This information is all well and good, but there's one detail that you've seemed to neglect during this entire conversation."

The prisoner turned to look at him. "O-oh?"

The blonde man covered his smile with his fan as he watched the Englishman fidget. "_Names._ We can't begin to search for those responsible without their names."

The prisoner paused, his reluctance giving Isshin a good opportunity to take the sword and press it against the soft flesh of his neck. The Englishman made the mistake of whipping his head back around and gasped as a thin red scratch appeared across the side of his jugular.

The King watched the man gulp slowly, almost afraid to even breath. "You heard the man; tell us the names of your superiors."

"... That'll be hard," Isshin moved the blade forwards and the Englishman's eyes widened. "Wait! _Wait_! No one is allowed to reveal their real name, everyone uses codenames. I didn't even know my partner's real name."

The king kept his blade steady, "Codenames, real names; it doesn't matter to us. So I'll say it again for the last time; the names of your superiors. _Now_."

"..._L'armée Cachée_," The Englishman's French pronunciation was typically horrible. "The _Hidden _Army. That's what we're called. The only names I know are Scabbard, Doctor, Fishbone and the occasional whisperings about someone called Moon."

Urahara frowned suddenly. "Fishbone...The name sounds familiar."

"He's a _Spaniard_." Isshin growled. For decades now the Spaniards had been a persistent thorn in the king's side. This certainly wouldn't be the first time that they'd tried something.

"Fishbone was the leader of the crew," The prisoner said quickly, "I've seen him once or twice on other separate occasions."

Isshin looked up at Urahara, "Kisuke, I want you to gather any documents relating to Fishbone and his associates. I'll stay here."

"Yes, sir." Urahara bowed out of the room, wondering if it was safe to let Isshin continue to interrogate the prisoner on his own. Though being the King of France, there were few who would question his methods and Urahara knew that the Englishman probably deserved whatever he had coming to him.

The blonde man pinched the bridge of his nose. Gathering any files on Fishbone was going to be a hassle. The vast majority of records were usually kept together in Chateau de Fontainebleau, just on the other side of Paris which, from here was a decent distance away. But although Urahara couldn't put his finger on it, he had a hunch that Fishbone was the key to figuring out who was behind this mysterious L'armée Cachée. As he was thinking to himself, he turned a corner and a familiar face jumped right out at him.

"Kisuke!"

Urahara grinned, politely took his hat in his hands and dipped his head slightly, "Yoruichi. It's been too long."

The woman paused for a moment and ran a hand through her long, plum coloured hair, obviously curious as to why he was choosing to speak English, but she just shrugged it off and quickly adjusted her response. "I came as soon as I heard about Ichigo. I'll do whatever I can to help out."

Yoruichi Shihōin was an Eastern beauty that Urahara befriended on his travels overseas when he was younger. She'd always had a curiosity about France's culture and when the Spaniards started to become a hassle, she was happy to pledge her allegiance to this country. Her mastery of hand-to-hand combat and intellectual cunning quickly earned her the King's favour.

"If you want, you could travel with me to Fontainebleau, I need to look up a possible lead." Kisuke knew from past experience that the woman's intuition was always a huge help.

Yoruichi cocked her head to the side, a sign that she was thinking. "...That actually sounds like a good idea, but before we talk about that, there's something else that just doesn't sound right to me."

"Oh?"

A serious expression crossed her face, "I heard that when Ichigo was kidnapped, he was a fair distance away from Vincennes. It was late at night, Kisuke. That kid shouldn't have been able to leave the Chateau undetected without _really_ trying to get out of there. I want to know why the hell he wanted to get out so badly?"

A light bulb suddenly went off in Urahara's mind. Yoruichi picked it up immediately in his wide-eyed expression, "What have you figured out, Kisuke?"

"Well, Ichigo turned 18 only a few months ago and Isshin certainly isn't getting any younger..." When her face lit up with understanding, Urahara smiled. "And you know what that entails."

It was Yoruichi's turn to grin. "Royalty are so predictable. In the end, all they care about is the safety of their crowns."

* * *

Well guys! This chapter was a quick detour to see how the rest of the Kurosaki family are dealing with the loss of Prince Frowny-face. But don't worry, next chapter we'll get back to Ichigo and his vagabond buddies.

Well, I'm quite happy with this chapter. Whilst I was writing it, I realised that a plot point further along in this fanfic didn't make a whole lot of sense so I had to overhaul my plot and using a red pen and some highlighters, I've made a tonne of changes which will hopefully make this fanfic flow much better while still being exciting. It's gon' be _goooood_.

**And thanks once again to the oh-so-talented Fellmekke Cross Fire (.net/u/2731118) who translated the sections in French! The help is _much_ appreciated :)**

Comments and reviews will be used to reveal Ichigo's reasons for wanting to get away from the Chateau!


	6. A Prince's Duty

**The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo [Chapter 6: A Prince's Duty]**

**Pairing: Hichigo Shirosaki (Dark/Hollow Ichigo) x Ichigo Kurosaki**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any BLEACH characters (D'X)**

* * *

The Rouen Markets were bustling and alive as customers and stall-keepers bartered their wares in the centre of town under an early morning sun. Zangetsu moved through the crowds of people as inconspicuously as possible, only stopping to purchase various foods and items to stock up on in the cart. It didn't take him long to buy all that he needed, probably because Shiro had wanted to stay behind and keep a suspicious eye on Prince Ichigo and here, English was less abundant. As they moved away from the coastline, the numbers of people speaking English was lower and in a market like this, there was little need to use it unless the buyer spoke in the foreign tongue first. To remain inconspicuous, Zangetsu spoke only in French.

He stopped for a moment to rest and carefully ran a hand over his wounded leg. It was barely a bother to him since Shiro had earlier cleaned it with distilled alcohol and wrapped it up tightly. And besides, as a younger lad, he'd been enlisted in the army and had dealt with far worse wounds than this.

Suddenly, through the din of the crowd, a voice speaking in a familiar language stood out to him. Zangetsu turned his ear in the direction of the noise; two men standing beside a vegetable stall talking in hushed tones. He managed to pick up pieces of their conversation as he passed them.

"... Rumour through Paris... ...Prince Ichigo's kidnappers... ...Hueco Mundo..."

Zangetsu's grip on his bags tightened. He made up his mind to spy on the pair and with a quick turn around the corner of a stall, he disappeared.

-xxxxx-

Shiro, having risen before Zangetsu left for the markets, yawned loudly as he stood in a patch of sun, still trying to properly wake up. Yesterday, just as it was getting dark, they arrived in Rouen and parked the cart behind a thicket of trees just in case any locals stumbled by.

Once Shiro had warmed himself up, he wandered back over to the cart to check on Ichigo, who he presumed was still sleeping. He wondered for a moment what he would do if he found the coffin to be empty. It was all possible that the French prince might've slipped off in the middle of the night, but when he got close enough, he saw spikes of vibrant orange hair that could only belong to Ichigo.

He hopped up onto the back of the cart and knelt over Mr. Sleeping Beauty. Shiro stifled a laugh; you'd think that he'd be relaxed while sleeping, but no, his eyebrows were still bunched in that permanent scowl of his. He let his gaze wander over him a little and he noticed that the redhead was covered in tiny droplets of dew. Since Ichigo was still uneasy about the coffin lid, he must've slept without it covering him to stop some of the cold. Shit, he must've been freezing last night. Shiro placed a hand on the sleeping prince's cheek and he was right; his skin was cool to the touch.

Shiro was impressed despite himself. For a prince, Ichigo was much tougher than he'd originally thought. He rustled around for the blanket that he'd put away when he woke up and draped it over the coffin.

He was tucking the corners in at the sides when Ichigo's hands, still cuffed together, suddenly shot out and grabbed Shiro's arm. His eyes were focused on the white-haired male. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't freeze to death. I know we don't have enough blankets but you could've said something."

Ichigo let go of his arm, "I'm fine."

"No need to be shy, I don't mind sharing." Shiro grinned cheekily.

The prince's frown deepened but he said nothing. Oh, how Shiro enjoyed riling him up.

But before he could continue his newest hobby, Zangetsu came striding back toward the cart, his hands full with stock and a pensive frown on his face. Shiro sat down beside Ichigo, prepared for an explanation. "That took a lot longer than usual. Did you find something interesting?"

"You could say that." Zangetsu tossed the bags into the cart loudly and glanced at redhead, "Ichigo, this concerns you too."

Ichigo sat up with a sober face. Ever since the incident with the blonde brothers, he was starting to see another side to the English pair, a strong camaraderie that made him think that these two were much more than just common criminals.

With both teens full attention, Zangetsu said, "According to rumours I heard this morning, a man was taken in by the gendarmes who may have had something to do with your kidnapping. They said that he was working for Hueco Mundo."

Shiro watched Ichigo's expression darken but didn't entirely understand why. "Why would a Spanish extremist group want to kidnap a French prince?"

"For years now, the Spaniards have caused us nothing but trouble. They killed my people just to send the message that they were against the throne. And now they've gone out of their way to kidnap me personally." Ichigo's voice lowered into a snarl, "_Ils ne sont rien que des ordures. __(They are nothing but scum)."_

Zangetsu made a noise of curiosity, "It sounds like this is news to you. Didn't you see the face of your attackers?"

Ichigo sighed heavily. "I did, I think. Let me remind you that I've been knocked out a number of times and no matter how hard I try, I can't remember any exact details. One moment I'm in a bar and the next I wake up inside a coffin."

Zangetsu's brow furrowed. "That's not possible. As a Prince you have guards following you everywhere -whether you know it or not- and they'd never allow you to go somewhere like that. What were you doing in a bar of all places?"

Ichigo rested his chin in his hands, debating whether or not to tell them the truth. Despite being told that he was still their bargaining chip, he knew that their hearts weren't really in it. He could tell that the uncle and nephew weren't kidnappers by any stretch of the imagination. If he could somehow get them onto his side, they would prove to be valuable assets. The French prince was going to make Hueco Mundo pay for what they had done.

Ichigo had made up his mind. He raised his head and looked the pair in the eyes, "What I am about to tell you is of great national important and could be devastating if spread to the wrong people. Because of that, we need to make a deal."

Zangetsu was about to speak, probably something along the lines of 'we don't want to get involved', but Shiro held up a hand to stop him. The pale teen's curiosity had been piqued and he just had to know more. "Go on."

The redhead grinned on the inside. Shiro's reaction was just what he'd hoped for. "First, I need to know why you're using me as a bartering tool."

"We're trying to get to Naples." Shiro answered without missing a beat. "But with our... _colourful_ history in some countries, it'll be hard to get through the border without help. And that's where you come in."

"We're not going there to cause any trouble." Zangetsu added, obviously wanting to make it clear. "We're retiring from this line of business."

Shiro dipped his head towards his uncle, "Well _he_ is anyway. I'll see how I feel after a year or two." He grinned deviously, "So what's this deal you're proposing, Princey?"

"Safe passage through Italy's borders in exchange for your assistance in taking down Hueco Mundo. I want to find whoever ordered my kidnapping and make them bleed."

Shiro bit his lip, "I dunno... It's risking a lot on our part."

Ichigo turned to the older man, _"Si votre casier judiciaire est aussi mauvais qu'il ne semble, même se cacher à Naples ne vous sauvera pas. Mais je peux changer vos rapports__. (If your criminal record is as bad as it sounds, not even hiding in Naples will save you. But I can change your records,)"_ Ichigo's eyes flitted over to Shiro. _"...Et __ça aussi__.(... And his too.)"_

For whatever reason, the comment seemed to hit a nerve and Zangetsu nodded. "_Bien, j'entendrai votre affaire, mais j'aurais besoin d'y penser.__ (Alright, I'll hear your deal, but I'll need to think about it.)_"

Shiro rolled his eyes in frustration. "Well _fuck you both_ and your stupid secret language."

Ichigo ignored the outburst. Even though Zangetsu said that he'd think it over, his reaction when the redhead mentioned Shiro's criminal record told him that he would almost definitely agree to the deal. "Since I was born, I have been raised to one day take over my father's position and become king. When I turned eighteen earlier this year he told me that he plans to step down when I turn twenty. But for me to be king, the continuation of the royal bloodline must be secured."

"... Meaning?"

Ichigo turned to Shiro, "It means that two weeks ago I was told that I have been betrothed to the English Duchess, Orihime Inoue; an arranged marriage with the purpose of strengthening ties with your country."

The white-haired teen snapped his fingers, "Well that makes a lot more sense, I mean, if Hueco Mundo somehow found out that you were getting married, then they'd want to try and get you out of the way before you secure the bloodline," Shiro pondered. "Though to be quite honest, I'd hate to get married. I'd probably be hiding away in a bar as well."

"_Je ne me cachais pas!_ _(I wasn't hiding!)_" Ichigo snapped back. "I tried to tell my father that I didn't want the marriage to proceed, but he wouldn't hear a word of it. I just wanted to escape from being me for an hour or two. I needed some time to myself to gather my thoughts." He brought his cuffed hands up and pinched the bridge of his nose, "But something happened in the bar, I remember fighting back and heading back towards the Chateau, but I don't think I made it..."

The French prince frowned heavily and Shiro could clearly see the levels of anger in his expression. Anger at his attackers, anger at his lack of memory, but what Shiro saw the strongest was anger at his own actions; for escaping (even momentarily) from his responsibilities by sitting in that bar. _What a dutiful bastard_, Shiro thought.

Zangetsu broke through the silence by loudly hopping back up behind the reigns. "Since we've got what we came for, I believe it's time we went on our way."

"Where are we headed now?" Shiro called over his shoulder.

"I'm not sure yet."

Ichigo frowned, "I thought we just got here?"

As the horses started moving, Shiro shrugged. "Well Zangetsu's been hanging around the market all morning and if you haven't already realised, he's not exactly very _normal_-looking. It's better to leave as quickly as possible before they really remember what we look like. We've never stayed anywhere for very long."

"But don't you have a home?"

Shiro was just going to make a joke about being a free spirit or something but when he saw Ichigo's expression, he could tell that the redhead was serious. He coughed awkwardly, "I guess since you told me your story, I should tell you one of mine. Ok, how about this; when I was younger, Zangetsu would tell me stories about when he lived in Italy. His favourite city of them all wasn't Rome or Venice or Florence, it was Naples. After my parents died when I was about ten, he promised to one day take me there when I was older. But we had very little money and we started working with illegal goods and other jobs just to get by."

He looked to his side and was surprised to see Ichigo listening so intently. He could feel his chestnut eyes watching him and blushed lightly. "Anyway, a while back we decided that it was time to fulfil that promise and do everything we could to get there." Shiro chuckled, "Naples or nowhere. It's all we have."

Ichigo looked over his shoulder at Shiro's uncle, "You say that, but I know he's going to agree to the deal."

The pale teen nodded, "Yeah, but he likes to really think things over sometimes. He did the same thing when trying to decide whether or not to smuggle the opium." Shiro suddenly grinned, "Or maybe he still doesn't trust you. Maybe you've made all this up just to fool us then you'll escape at the first chance."

Ichigo frowned at the goad. "I can assure you that my offer is genuine."

Shiro leaned in, "… Prove it."

"Then take these off me." The French prince held his cuffed hands up. "I promise I won't run."

"Should I, Zangetsu?"

"Do what you want." His voice answered behind Shiro.

The white-haired boy grinned ear to ear. He searched around in the bags behind him and finally found the keys. "You're lucky I stole these as well or else you'd be stuck with them."

The locks opened with a light click and the two just sat there, unmoving, staring each other down.

Shiro was ready for Ichigo to sprint; he almost _wanted_ him to run for it so he could tackle him down and triumphantly pull him back into the coffin.

But Ichigo didn't move an inch. A disbelieving smile played at the corner of his mouth, "You were hoping that I'd run and give you something to chase."

"Of course. But damn, it would've been so much fun," he chuckled.

The redhead stretched his arms wide, enjoying the feeling of finally being able to move freely again. Muscles in his arms ached from lack of use, but it wouldn't take him long to get them feeling back to normal again.

Shiro watched him stretch and crack his limbs when he suddenly remembered something. "Ah, almost forgot about this. Now you can actually put it on properly." He rummaged around again in the bags and pulled out a new hooded coat. Unlike Shiro's black one, this coat was a deep, chocolate brown. He handed it to Ichigo who pulled his arms through it and wrapped it around himself. The pale teen smiled lopsidedly, "It looks good on you."

Ichigo smiled despite himself, "… I do like it. _Merci_."

"You look like a true plebeian now. Not even your girlfriend would recognise you." Shiro imagined Ichigo walking back into his family's Chateau wearing such simple clothing. Everyone would gasp in horror at their precious prince wearing such crude commoner's clothes. It was a hilarious image.

"The duchess is indeed someone's girlfriend, but not mine."

Shiro let out a low whistle. "My my, the royal family is rife with drama. So she's already got herself a man even though she's supposed to be engaged to you?"

The prince nodded, "When I heard that she was already in love with someone, that's when I started rejecting our arrangement. I refuse to tear apart their true love."

Shiro grimaced, "You've really taken this 'Prince' role to heart, haven't you? I've never met anyone so patriotic and noble in my life. It's borderline sickening."

Ichigo raised a scorning eyebrow, "I could say the same thing about you. You, who cares for no one, fights dirty and has a vocabulary to match."

"Ok, _now_ you're just getting snobby. I never had any fancy education and any faults with my vocabulary, blame them on _him_," Shiro pointed over his shoulder, "He's been my only teacher since I was thirteen. And it hasn't been easy for him either since we've always been on the move." He threw his hands in the air, "I used to _dream_ about being a prince, but I learnt very quickly that life can be shit. I bet you and everyone you know is just rolling around in your wealth without a single _real_ problem."

The pale teen thought for sure that Ichigo would yell at him, but even though the redhead never raised his voice, the malice in his words was clear. "No real problems? ... You have _no_ _idea_ what it's like to bear the brunt of an empire; watched almost every second of every day, conforming and contorting to fit their ideals. When I was younger I would've happily swapped lives with a plebeian you."

He looked at the redhead like he was insane. "Serious? I'm pretty sure that being a prince is much better than being a... What the hell are you smiling about?"

A small grin had started to curl at the corner of Ichigo's mouth, "I've just realised how strange it is that we wanted to swap places when we look so, so similar. Well, if only your skin wasn't as pale and your hair was such an outrageous colour like mine."

Shiro wanted to say some kind of retort, but it disappeared when he saw the prince's soft smile. "Oh? Try looking at my side of things; this white hair of mine makes me stand out even on the darkest of nights, not a very helpful trait when you're trying to hide. And on top of that I'm probably going to get _really_ sunburnt it Naples." Shiro pulled up his sleeve and extended his arm to Ichigo, exposing his ridiculously pale skin.

The redhead's eyes widened slightly. "I know you're from England, but _merde_, your skin is very pale." Ichigo reached out and touched the underside of his arm, his fingertips lightly skimming over his skin. He was actually surprised to feel that he was very warm. His grin widened a little more.

The cart bounced over a hole in the road and the jolt made Shiro's heart missed a beat, or maybe it was because of Ichigo's touch...

Nah, it was probably the road.

* * *

Shiro and Ichigo are such children. Stop fighting over everything or Zangetsu will put you in the time-out corner of the cart!

Yar, here be another chapter! We're starting to find out more about Ichigo and how he ended up in this mess! Those three are beginning to get to know each other a little more, which is nice, because it means that they're starting to become friends! Well, maybe not 'friends' just yet, but it's a start.

It took me a while to get happy with this chapter, but I reckon I got all the information out that I wanted to. I actually used to have a different reason for Ichigo wanting to stop the arranged marriage, but when I really thought about it, it was too OOC for our royal redhead. So I changed it and because of that ONE change in detail, a lot of the original plot had to be re-written!

Anywho, **Thank you, _Merci beaucoup, _once again to Fellmekke Cross Fire ( u/2731118) who translated the French text!**

Comments and reviews will be used to further investigate Shiro's heart palpitations. Is it really just the road or is he telling lies?


	7. All for One and You for Me

**The Kidnapping of Kurosaki Ichigo: [Chapter 7: All for One and You for Me]**

**Pairing: Hichigo Shirosaki (Dark/Hollow Ichigo) x Ichigo Kurosaki**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any BLEACH characters**

* * *

Shirosaki pulled the hood of his coat over his head; the early afternoon sun was strangely intense for this cooler season. He had taken Ichigo's place and was lying down in the coffin with his hands behind his head, enjoying the chance to stretch out and lie down on a flat surface and have a quick afternoon nap. Now that the trio no longer viewed each other as enemies, it seemed useless to confine Ichigo to the wooden casket anymore and the redhead was certainly delighted to be free from the damn thing. Now, he was sitting beside Zangetsu, the both of them jabbering away in French.

Tilting his head back a little, Shiro watched the prince talk, his arms twirling around in wild gestures and every so often, he'd rub his wrists as if suddenly remembering that he was no longer wearing the handcuffs. The pale teen gave a little smirk. He remembered the first time he'd been cuffed up; the unwelcome sensation of being bound, the rusty metal scraping against his skin, and the great sense of freedom that came from them being taken off. Being royalty almost definitely meant that that was his first time ever being handcuffed. Shiro rubbed his own wrists and felt a slight roughness of the skin. He didn't mean to brag, but he'd been cuffed (and subsequently escaped) more times than he could care to remember.

"..._iro_..."

Shiro closed his eyes and sighed, contently feeling the slight sway of the cart beneath him and the sounds of hooves clopping against the compact dirt road.

"..._Shiro_..."

He could feel himself slipping away, the pull of sleep getting too strong to resist.

"...Oi, Shiro!" Zangetsu turned and smacked the top end of the coffin, making Shiro bolt upright.

"What the hell do you want? I'm trying to sleep here." He growled.

Zangetsu gestured in the direction of the low lying terrain before them, "We're going to stop at the lake over there; the horses are starting to overheat."

_Thank goodness I'm not the only one affected by this weather,_ Shiro thought. "Whatever."

The lake was stagnant and smooth with only slight ripples quivering the surface. The surrounding land was moderately flat with fields of wild grass coating the landscape and the only tree cover was a small thicket of forest that stood atop a hill across from the lake.

Zangetsu drove the cart off the path and smelling the water, the horses naturally headed in the lake's direction. The two horses were removed of their reins and ambled over to the lake for a drink, their muzzles sending thick ripples across the water. Ichigo followed them over and ran his hand over one of the horses' backs, muttering softly to them in French.

Shiro watched how Ichigo's hand smoothed over the horse's thick, black mane and thought about how similarly the redhead had reached out and touched Shiro's pale arm. He knew that his sudden freedom from the cuffs was enough to make him want to reach out to everything around him, but somehow it felt different. Ichigo didn't appear to think anything of it, but he seemed a little too comfortable touching someone who only days earlier threatened to kill him. Shiro let out a quick chuckle, _Has Princey caught himself a case of Stockholm syndrome?_

Just as he thought that, Ichigo looked over his way and frowned, "What are you laughing at?"

Shiro leant against the side of the coffin. "You look like you're fond of our horses. I'm just making sure that you don't try and escape on one of them."

As expected, Ichigo's frown deepened, "I've already told you, I'm not going to run off. I'm paying attention to your horses because I've never seen any so big before." He ran a hand over one of its legs, "They're so muscular and sturdy."

"They weren't bred for riding like the ones you see the Gendarmes on; these guys are draught horses, made for pulling and working." Shiro jumped down from the cart and walked over to the horses. "Would you believe that I helped raise them?"

Ichigo's eyes widened a fraction with interest, "_You've_ raised horses? I've never even had a pet dog before."

"My father was a horse breeder and since I didn't exactly look like a normal kid, I spent most of my time with his horses. These two are Percherons, a breed that actually originates over here, but a lot were imported to England and America for the war. We bought a handful of them from an ex-soldier and it didn't take more than a year before two of the mares were pregnant. They were born within days of each other and I was allowed to raise them both together. I was probably only 8 years old at the time." Shiro rubbed his hands over the front of their faces, remembering how they looked as lanky young foals.

"Do they have names?" Ichigo asked.

"This guy here is Getsuga," Shiro gestured to the horse furthest from Ichigo who was as black as the night from head to toe. "And this one is Tenshō," this was the horse that Ichigo had been patting, was all black except for his face, which looked strangely like someone had dipped it in white paint. "They were the best horses we had and every time Zangetsu and I travel, we _always_ take these two with us."

Ichigo patted the horses some more and watched as Shiro picked out the longest tufts of grass and held them out for them to eat. It was interesting for the Prince to see the usually snarky teen interacting so calmly with the animals. He could imagine a younger Shiro looking after the foals, feeding them apples and combing their hair.

Shiro looked over at Ichigo and a light blush coloured his cheeks. 'Oi, what're you smiling at," he frowned.

The redhead blinked - he hadn't realised that he was smiling. He cocked his head to the side with thought, "It makes me wonder, how does a simple horse breeder become a wanted criminal? Where's the link?"

"Link?" Shiro lowered his head and smiled bitterly, "There's no link. Just a shitload of bad luck."

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say. It was abundantly clear that Shiro didn't want to talk about it and there was probably nothing he could say to change that.

"Shiro! Ichigo!" The prince was glad to hear Zangetsu call them from the cart.

The pair walked back to the cart, leaving the horses to continue drinking from the lake. "What's up?" Shiro answered.

Zangetsu crossed his arms and looked over at Ichigo, "J'ai décidé d'être d'accord avec votre accord. (I've decided to agree to your deal.) We'll help you take down your kidnappers but only as long as you keep your end of the bargain."

Ichigo nodded, happy with the result, "Depending on how well this turns out, I may be willing to compensate your losses on the drug shipment."

Shiro smirked and hopped back up onto the cart. "That's quite a nice incentive, Princey." He stepped over the coffin, grabbed an apple from one of the bags and took a large bite out of it. "But will your principles really allow you to give that much money to a pair of Pommy thieves?"

The French royal nodded, "In this equation, you are the lesser of two evils."

"Aw, you think I'm evil?" Shiro waved his hand dramatically, "Please stop, you're making me blush."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and held out his hand, "hand me an apple so I can feed the horses."

"Fine," Shiro bent down and grabbed another apple for the redhead. Deciding to show off a little, he juggled the two apples around with one hand, a little trick he picked up from a circus performer in London, and stepped back over the coffin. Well, at least he thought he had. Since his concentration was elsewhere, he accidentally stepped on the edge of the coffin wall and tripped with a somewhat surprised expression spread across his face as he fell forwards.

Shiro's vision was suddenly compromised as a pair of arms closed around him and his face was buried into Ichigo's chest. His momentum kept him falling and the pair ended up sprawled on the ground. The two apples that Shiro had been holding rolled down the slight slope and into the water where the horses promptly gobbled them up.

The redhead groaned loudly, having taken the full force of the fall. "Je jure, tu vas être ma mort. (I swear, you'll be the death of me),"He mumbled bitterly.

"Eh?" Shiro pulled back to find himself sitting on top of Ichigo, who's face was scrunched up as he rubbed the back of his head. He smirked, "I apologise that I'm not as light and dainty as the maidens you're used to catching."

"But you sure are as clumsy as one," Ichigo rose himself up from the ground a little and was glad to find that his vision didn't get fuzzy. He'd had enough concussions to last a lifetime. The redhead looked Shiro over and his cheeks turned pink when he realised that the pale teen was basically straddling him. "... If you don't mind, would you please get off me."

Shiro blinked for a moment, before blushing a little as well.

Suddenly Zangetsu coughed loudly, making his presence firmly known.

Shiro stood up a little too quickly and turned to face his uncle with a frown. "The coffin takes up too much room. Since we don't need the damn thing anymore, I reckon we should toss it."

"Don't you think you'd be suspicious of a coffin sitting in the middle of a large field? No, chop it up and we can use it for firewood later." Zangetsu scrounged around in the back of the cart and pulled out an axe.

"Thank _you_!" Shiro swiped it out of Zangetsu's grip and ran his other hand down the flat side of the blade, "I can't believe you snuck an axe along in our baggage. What the hell were you planning on using this for?"

"Unlike you, I prepare for the unexpected. Now jump back up on the cart and help push." When Zangetsu turned to grab the base of the coffin, Shiro pulled a face.

With Shiro pushing one end and Ichigo and Zangetsu pulling the other, the trio slowly dragged the coffin out of the cart and down onto the grass. Suddenly, the back of the cart looked a lot roomier than Shiro remembered. Even though it was kind of obvious, he was surprised how much room a coffin takes up.

Shiro tested the axe with a hearty swing, a smooth movement that he hadn't performed in years. His farm-boy upbringing was still just as strong. Shiro took of his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Resting the axe on his shoulder, he smirked cheekily at Ichigo, "Sit back and watch, Princey, this is how the common folk do it."

"I think I'll stand, thank you." Ichigo put his hands in his pockets expectantly.

Zangetsu rolled his eyes at his nephew's forced display of testosterone, "I'll go look after the horses then…"

After a few test swings, Shiro started hacking away at the coffin, slowly but surely chopping it down. Ichigo watched with clear interest as the man who he'd always seen as a scummy vagabond villain turning more and more into just a regular, hardworking individual. Sure, his methods were still unmistakably illegal, but he was starting to see purpose behind the pale teen's ways.

Shiro's swings were smooth, but strong. The axe would stop just behind his head and come swooping down in an arc, burying itself in the wooden walls. As his arms moved, Ichigo could see that there was no fat to be seen. It was all tight, lean muscle that rippled resolutely under his skin.

It didn't take very long for the coffin to get broken down into manageable pieces in a neat pile. With his work done, Shiro felt quite chuffed with himself; He'd worked up a decent sweat and could feel his heart pounding away in his chest. He felt fit and strong. He tossed the axe back into the cart with a grin.

He then turned to Ichigo, ready to sing his own praises. "Now I'd like to see _you_ manage that all dressed up and covered in jewel…." Suddenly a strong gust of wind rolled over the grass hills, picking up speed and sweeping over the group with a mighty blast.

Ichigo raised an arm up to shield his face from the sudden gust. His cloak flapped violently behind him and for a moment, nearly threatened to tip him backwards. As he blinked his suddenly dry eyes, he noticed Shiro staring at him with his mouth hung slightly agape. "… Is something wrong?"

"No…" The pale man managed, "I was just a little surprised, that's all."

Before the redhead could say 'surprised at what', a foul stench suddenly filled his nostrils. He grimaced and covered his face, "Mon dieu, quel odeur répugante. (Good god, what an awful smell.)"

Shiro raised a sweaty eyebrow and Ichigo figured out where the stench had come from. He grimaced, "You absolutely reek! When was the last time you bathed?!"

"Hey! How about you try and perform some manual labour and _not_ come out smelling like this!" Shiro barked back in his defence. "And I doubt that you smell like a basket of roses either."

The prince took a whiff of his own shirt and was met with a similar (albeit less strong) odour of sweat and dirt. "Yuck, le cercueil sent probablement mieux que moi. (Yuck, the coffin probably smells better than me.)"

"I'll take that as a 'no'." Shiro remarked and sitting down onto the grass, started pulling off his boots.

The redhead looked at him, confused, "… What're you doing?"

He tilted his head in the direction of the lake, "_I'm_ going swimming. I don't know about you, but the old man definitely won't let me back on the cart smelling like this." With his boots off he waggled his eyebrows at Ichigo, "Care to join me?"

The prince rolled his eyes, "I was going to whether you offered or not; I don't actually enjoy smelling this bad."

As Shiro headed over to the lake, Ichigo began disrobing. He put his cloak and shoes in a neat little pile beside the cart and followed Shiro. The two of them stood at the edge of the lake for a moment, taking in the atmosphere.

Looking at it up close, the lake was quite deep, it stayed shallow for a metre or two then quickly dropped off out of sight. Ichigo stepped into the shallow water and feeling it swirl around his feet, he smiled a little. In summer he would always spend hours in the nearest lake, having fun with his friends or keeping an eye on his sisters. He suddenly wondered how worried they must be, not knowing where he was, probably fearing the worst…

"Hurry up, Princey!" A sudden hard shove pushed Ichigo into the water with a loud splash. He was momentarily shocked as the cool water enveloped him. When his head rose back up to the surface, he glared at Shiro with as much intensity as he could muster.

Shiro threw his head back and laughed. He followed suit and jumped into the lake, showering Ichigo with more water. He was still giggling when his head appeared back up. "Don't look so grumpy, Ichigo. It was only a bit of fun."

"You're lucky I don't try and drown you," The redhead muttered.

Shiro held his hands up, ready to fight, "come and have a go if you think you're hard enough!"

The prince smirked, "comme tu le souhaite. (as you wish.)" He said and tried to grab the pale teen.

Shiro fought back and the pair tumbled around in the water, fighting to push the other under the water.

Despite himself, Ichigo was actually having a good time. It had been ages since he'd been so relaxed and even though he was sure that he wasn't supposed to, he was starting to enjoy Shiro's company.

During this time, Zangetsu had looked after the horses and had tied them back up to the cart. "We're going to leave here before nightfall!" Zangetsu called out to the boys. "So make sure that you have enough time to dry off!"

"We should probably get out now then," Ichigo said, panting slightly from their brawling.

Shiro nodded, "Give me a second, I'm curious to see how deep this lake is." He dove underwater as Ichigo made his way to the shallows.

The prince stepped back onto dry and was greeted with a soft breeze that while being a bit chilly, was pleasant nevertheless. As Ichigo was walking, he couldn't help but notice the feeling of his pants clinging to his body. It didn't take him long to realise that because of the high-quality of the material, Ichigo's pants were thinner and lighter than your average cloth so in their dampened state, they clung to his body, outlining nearly every curve of his lower half. This realisation caused a rush of blood up to his face in a blush of intense embarrassment.

At this time, Shiro had resurfaced out of the water to find Ichigo just a few steps away from the lake. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into is hair when he noticed the state of Ichigo's pants. While Shiro was stepping out of the water as quietly as possible, he noticed the redhead freeze and had to stifle a snigger. Princey had finally noticed.

Shiro cleared his throat, making Ichigo swiftly turn his head with surprise.

"There's no need to be embarrassed your Highness," Shiro gave the blushing royalty an obvious look over, grinning, "Everything looks good from where I'm standing." And for good measure, he smacked him on the ass.

Ichigo didn't think that his cheeks would get any brighter, but they certainly did. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the pale teen by his soaking shirt collar and with a mighty shove, pushed him back into the lake.

Underwater, Shiro blinked vacantly, surprised that Ichigo had that much strength but also surprised that he liked Ichigo's expression. _Shit_, he found himself thinking, _that was kinda hot_.

* * *

Yes, I know I haven't updated in a long time. No, I didn't die. And no, I haven't abandoned this website :) I'll finish these stories even if it takes my whole life to do it.

**Even after all this time, thank you so much to Fellmekke Cross Fire ( u/2731118) who is still happy to translate the French for me :)**

Comments and reviews will be used to persuade Ichigo to forgive Shiro.


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